


Beautiful

by Adolphus Longestaffe (adolphus_longestaffe)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ana is Jack's BFF, BDSM, Body Image, CHECK THE TAGS FFS, Cock Cages, Consensual Kink, Dad Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Deal With It, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fetish Clothing, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gabe is 37, Humiliation, I know but it's an AU shut up, Jack is 27, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Micropenis, Military Backstory, Model Jack, Modeling, Modern AU, Past Violence, Praise Kink, Sexy Fluff, Small Penis, Young Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Young Jesse McCree, photographer Gabe, some characters' ages do not fit Overwatch game canon cause story reasons, this has gotten out of hand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-04-05 02:38:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 64,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14034324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adolphus_longestaffe/pseuds/Adolphus%20Longestaffe
Summary: Gabriel Reyes is a photographer on the level of Annie Leibovitz. He is particularly renowned for emphasizing the features about which a subject is most self-conscious, and revealing the beauty in perceived flaws. Jack Morrison is the highest-paid male fashion model in the world, and in his opinion, he has a serious flaw. One he's been hiding from the world for years. Jack is asked to do a special photo shoot with Gabriel and things get very kinky very quickly.





	1. Entre Nous

**Author's Note:**

> This story has multiple chapters (although it wasn't supposed to at first), so be careful to watch the tags and rating, as they will likely change as the plot moves forward. More characters might pop in, too. 
> 
>  
> 
> Characters' Ages For reference  
> Jack-27  
> Gabe-37  
> Ana-38  
> Jesse-14  
> Fareeha-14  
> Olivia-19  
> Angela-30  
> Satya-24  
> Amélie-35

 

 

“Beautiful. Perfect. You’re hiding in your hair, Jesse. Jack, little to the right. Good. Hold that…gorgeous.”

The rapid-fire snap of the shutter, the sticky slick of body makeup, the weird, oily scent of colored lens-gels heating on the many lamps positioned to cast the models’ features just right; this is all part of a regular workday for Jack. Today, he is doing a spread for Recherché magazine called “Domestic Tranquility.” It features items from the summer clothing line by Yves St. Laurent, inspired by the leisurely, well-to-do family aesthetic of the Edwardian era.

Jack is in a crisp, white, tight-fitting linen suit, a sailor-style shirt with navy stripes, a pair of white espadrilles, and a straw boater hat. Jack’s pride had been hurt when he learned he’d be playing the “father” for the shoot, sporting the items for more mature gentlemen. He’s only twenty-seven, and at the top of his game. There is no more sought-after male fashion model in the world, and Jack is fiercely protective of his position.

Ana, Jack’s manager and best friend, had patiently explained that the “mother” for the shoot would be Satya, a long-legged, phenomenally beautiful Indian supermodel, and a friend with whom he has worked many times. He’d been somewhat palliated by this. Satya is a lot of fun. Always a good sport and never unprofessional. The third model on the shoot, the “son,” would be a very young up-and-comer named Jesse. Jack had balked again. He did not relish the prospect of working with a fourteen-year-old. These shoots are long, grueling days, not suited to children.

Then Ana had revealed the gem she’d kept back to surprise him. This specific fourteen-year-old happened to be the son of the photographer who would be shooting the set: one Mr. Gabriel Reyes. The way Jack’s stunning blue eyes had lit up and his sour pout had transformed into a grin of eager, childish delight had been Ana’s little reward to herself for putting up with his recent spell of prima-donna sulkiness.

Jack’s excitement is justified. Gabriel Reyes is a photographer on the level of Annie Leibovitz, and one who any model would give a limb to work with. He is particularly renowned for emphasizing the features about which a subject is most self-conscious, and turning them into points of pride. In his recent interview in Vanity Fair, he’d explained that his philosophy is that beauty lies in uniqueness, not in a single, homogenous, commercial aesthetic. Jack had wondered vaguely how far that philosophy extends.

This morning, he had been nervous and impatient to get to the location and as a result, he and Ana had actually arrived on time. He was too tongue-tied to properly respond when Mr. Reyes had greeted him and shaken his hand, but Ana had sailed in and rescued him, saying he was saving his voice for karaoke later. The little joke had earned a deep, sonorous laugh from Gabriel, creasing those big, dark-brown eyes in a way that had made Jack’s stomach tighten up and flutter.

“Alright, that’s a wrap on Jesse,” Gabriel says. “Good work, mijo. Go ahead and change.”

Jesse tosses his shaggy brown hair and hops up, barely looking at his father as he takes his cell phone and slinks away to the dressing area. Gabriel looks at Ana and rolls his eyes. She grins and shrugs. Her daughter Fareeha is the same age, and she and Gabriel have been bonding over parenting teenagers.

“Ok,” Gabriel says. “Reset for the ‘After Bedtime Stories’ sequence. Jack, Satya, excellent work. Olivia has your next pieces waiting. We’ll call you when we’re ready for you.”

Jack and Satya step carefully over the picnic props on the artificial lawn and head across the big, open soundstage area to wardrobe. Olivia, the pretty young wardrobe supervisor, is pulling the plastic dust covers off the next sample-pieces they’ll be wearing.

“Ooh, sexy. I look good in white,” Satya intones in her husky Indian lilt, holding up a very transparent nightie and matching lace thong. She winks. “And so do you, Jackie.”

Jack grins his brilliant, sunlit grin. “Thanks Satya, but not as good as you.”

He’s handing his suit-jacket to an attendant as Ana approaches. He pulls off the striped shirt and hands that to the young man, too.

“Hey, Jack,” Ana says, “have you got your next outfit yet?”

“Right here,” Olivia chirps, pushing a silky wad of clothing into Ana’s hands. “The underwear are gonna fit pretty tight, but they’re meant to.”

“Thanks Olivia,” Ana replies. “Alright, Jackie, back into the closet.”

Jack smirks and follows her. The closet is what Ana calls Jack’s private changing area. This can be a bathroom, an office, or even a few privacy screens set up along the wall, as it is today, but some sort of private changing area is always a requirement of Jack’s contracts. That, and he does not do nudity. The reason for these unusual stipulations is the same as the reason he needs his manager’s assistance to put on a pair of underwear and a silk bathrobe. Jack has a certain…uniqueness to his body that he is certain not even Gabriel Reyes could find beauty in.

His therapist has been telling him for years that he shouldn’t be ashamed of it. That it’s perfectly normal. That it doesn’t make him any less of a man. But Dr. Ziegler’s well-intended advice can only do so much. Jack is the the highest-paid male model in the world, which places him at the epicenter an industry based entirely upon promoting and profiting from hyper-idealized stereotypes of masculine power. He can’t risk his career by a sudden fit of self-acceptance. So, Ana vigilantly enforces the terms of his contracts, and he changes in private.

He strips off the white linen suit pants and blue underwear and tosses them on a table. Ana hands him the salmon-pink European-cut briefs that are to be part of his next costume. As he pulls the short, pale-blue, silk robe over his shoulders, she reaches deftly down into the snug crotch of the briefs, slides something inside, makes a few adjustments, and steps back to examine her work.

“How does it feel?” she asks.

“Same as always,” he says, with a slight grimace. “Like I’m wearing football pads on my dick. It look ok? No weird bulges?”

“It’s perfect,” she grins. “Only non-weird bulges.”

“Oh, you’re a real funny-guy today,” he says, rolling his eyes. He looks down at the exaggerated male protuberance in his underwear. “It looks too big. It’s not usually this big.”

“It’s the same size we’ve been using for five years, darling,” she reassures him. “It’s just that those underwear are a bit tighter than usual. It shouldn’t be a big deal, though. Gabriel isn’t going to want any close-ups of your junk.”

At that moment, the production assistant calls out that Mr. Reyes is ready for Satya and Jack. Ana swats his hand away from the silicone dick he is fiddling with and shoos him over to the set. The scene includes an overwrought Victorian-style bedroom, complete with creepy sepia portraits of people in old-timey clothing on the false walls, and a huge canopy bed. Satya glides up at the same time as Jack and sits on the edge of the bed, allowing two makeup girls to adjust and brush and touch her up.

Her perky, round breasts and dark-brown nipples are clearly visible through the diaphanous fabric of the tiny nightie, but if she cares in the least, she doesn’t show it. Jack is exceedingly envious of her laissez-faire attitude toward her state of undress. He wraps his baby-blue robe more securely around himself and sits beside her. The makeup girls go to work on him with equal zeal, and then Mr. Reyes calls to clear the set and make a final lighting check.

“Alright,” Gabriel says, popping the cap off his camera lens. “Satya, Jack, you’re still mom and dad from the park, but this is a more intimate, after-the-kids-are-in-bed kind of scene. I want to see warmth, affection, intimacy, desire, all of that. Kiss each other if it feels natural at any point, but it’s Recherché magazine, not Hustler, so don’t go nuts, ok?”

“Got it,” Satya laughs, tossing her her long, glossy hair. “I’ll try not to strip him down and ride him raw right here in front of the camera.”

“I wouldn’t blame you for it,” Gabriel grins. “But if you feel the spirit overtaking you, warn us first, so we can send away the faint-hearted.”

Jack’s face flushes bright pink, which makes everyone laugh heartily. He laughs, too. As much as the suggestion of such a thing terrifies him, Satya is a good friend and the joke was meant in carefree humor. He assumes Gabriel’s answering riposte had been the same.

_No one is making fun of you. No one knows. Calm the fuck down._

Jack happens to catch Gabriel’s eye as he reclines against the pile of huge, fluffy pillows on the bed. Just for a nanosecond, he thinks he sees something odd in that handsome, scarred face that gives him pause. Could it be that…no, he was mistaken. He must be mistaken. Jack is thoroughly aware of his own attractiveness, but Gabriel Reyes is a man of class, education, and extraordinary genius. He’s way out of Jack’s league, and Jack knows it. Not to mention, he’s much older. And probably straight. And probably married. He did bring his kid to the shoot, after all.

The next part of the set proceeds smoothly, and Jack finds himself actually having fun. Gabriel’s banter with Satya keeps up, the two exchanging little friendly jibes and consulting together about poses, till it almost seems as if Jack isn’t part of the process. He’s just another piece of scenery for the tigress to stalk about and pose her lithe, gorgeous body on. Jack is rather inclined to like this mode of operation. Gabriel tells Satya what to do, she moves Jack around and places him as she wants him, and he doesn’t have to do anything but look adoringly at her.

He wishes all his jobs were like this. Photographers usually want to portray him as the sexual aggressor in a scene, with his big, hard muscles being used to show dominance over some thin, waify young girl, as well as to display whatever item of clothing they are hawking to their male consumers. Gabriel seems to want him in a strictly submissive role, with Satya pinning his wrists, straddling his chest, holding him by the lapels of the silk robe, and even standing on the bed with her little foot planted between Jack’s chiseled pectoral muscles, as if she has captured and conquered her magnificent blonde buck.

By the time the set is over and Gabriel calls a wrap, Jack thinks he has never enjoyed a day of work so much. He retreats to his cave to dress in his street clothes, while Ana chats with Gabriel. He stuffs the dummy cock deep down into his bag, pulls on his black v-neck t-shirt and his perfectly-faded, intentionally-frayed jeans, then goes to drop off the clothes with the wardrobe supervisor. Olivia greets him cheerfully, but refuses the robe and underwear.

“Oh, Ana didn’t tell you,” she says. “You and Satya can keep the clothes from the bedroom scene. A gift from Mr. Reyes.”

“Oh,” Jack says, a little confused. “I thought all the sample-pieces belonged to Yves St. Laurent.”

“They did. Mr. Reyes bought them for you two.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “Look, he never does that, so make sure you thank him, ok? He must really have liked you.”

“I will,” Jack grins, stuffing the rolled up garments into his bag. “But I’m pretty sure it was Satya he liked. She was fantastic.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Olivia shrugs. “See you later. Good work today.”

“Thanks!” 

Jack strolls over to where Gabriel, Ana, and Satya are reviewing some of the digital shots from the park scene. Satya is just saying how beautiful Jesse is, and how well he did having to sit and pose for so long. Jack glances around.

“Where’d he go, anyway?” he says. “I wanted to tell him what a great job he did.”

“Oh, his mother came to pick him up while you and Satya were changing between sets,” Gabriel replies. “It’s a school night.”

“Oh,” Jack says awkwardly. The care of a child is a complex issue with which he has no experience, and he does not want to say anything stupid. He takes a sip from his water bottle to buy himself a second. “Well, let him know he was really awesome to work with.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel smiles, flashing a row of perfect, white teeth. “I’ll pass along the compliment. It’ll mean a lot to him, coming from you.”

Jack is mystified by this idea. The boy hadn’t seemed vaguely interested in his existence at any point during the day. “It…uh…it will?”

“It sure will. He’s a big fan of your work,” Gabriel says blithely. “He says looking at photos of you is what made him realize he was into guys.”

Jack chokes on his mouthful of water and sputters as his three companions burst into laughter. He can feel his traitorously-pale skin flushing with heat and he knows he’s as red as an apple now.

Ana pats his back. “It’s ok, Jackie. Lots of teenaged boys probably have the same experience. Your perfect ass is plastered over half the billboards and magazine covers in the world.”

This produces another fit of merriment, in which Jack takes part, mostly out of courtesy. He can’t imagine how a father and son could be so open about such things, and he’s not entirely certain Gabriel isn’t making fun of him. His own father had literally disowned him when he’d come out at eighteen, and they didn’t speak again before he died. Not that he misses the worthless old drunk anyway.

Satya’s driver arrives and she bids them all farewell, then Ana goes to call Jack’s driver and see what the fuck is the hold-up, as she delicately puts it. Jack lingers around the services table, picking idly at a grapefruit and pretending to be watching the crew take down the bedroom set. In reality, he is watching Gabriel. The man is captivating.

He moves his tall, muscular body with the easy, self-possessed grace of a prince. His skin is a warm, dusky brown that makes Jack think of velvet. His dark-brown hair is shorn close on the sides, but where it’s a little longer on the top, Jack can see that it would be wavy or even curly if it were allowed to grow out. It also has little strands of silver here and there, which match the ones in his neatly-trimmed goatee and moustache. The level of confidence the man must have to let his grey hairs show in this industry is staggering. Jack finds it intensely sexy. Gabriel has his camera packed and is waving goodbye to the crew, when Jack recalls what Olivia had said about thanking him.

“Wait, Gabriel,” he calls out, trotting over to stop him.

Gabriel turns and waits, smiling agreeably.

“Hey, sorry,” Jack says, suddenly feeling very coltish and awkward. “I just…wanted to thank you for, um…Olivia said that you…”

_Jesus Christ, why can’t you spit out a simple thank you? It’s like this man has made your brain shut down._

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Gabriel laughs. “You deserve it. You worked hard and you did a great job.”

Jack blushes (again, god damn it) under the compliment. “Thanks. I mean…Satya was really great.”

“You were really great,” Gabriel says, fixing Jack with those intense dark-brown eyes. He pauses. “Jack…how would you feel about possibly doing another shoot with me?”

“What, really?” Jack almost exclaims. “Absolutely!”

“Yeah, hang on. Don’t say yes yet. This one will be a little different, so we’ll have to talk about it first. I don’t want to freak you out.”

“Freak me out?” Jack frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’d rather not try to explain it here while we’re all rushing out the door like this. I’m on my way to Paris tonight, but would you be free to meet with me when I get back? Like, Thursday evening?”

Jack’s stomach twirls. “Sure—I mean, yeah, of course.”

“Great.” Another dazzling smile. “I’ll have my assistant call Ana and set it up. It was great meeting you, Jack.”

“You, too Gabriel,” Jack says. “Thank you.”

He watches the handsome, broad-shouldered man exit, waving to Olivia as he walks out the door. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment when Gabriel had mentioned calling Ana to set up the meeting. He doesn’t know why this should disappoint him, and he is irritated with himself. He sulks in the car until Ana tickles him and plants lipstick kisses all over his cheeks, which he can never resist giggling at.

When he gets home, the conversation with Gabriel is still on his mind. He lies down on his bed and tries to think through it. Gabriel wanting to contact him through his manager means it’s strictly professional. This is not a bad thing. Another shoot with this photographer is a big fucking deal, even for a model with Jack’s star-power. Plus, Gabriel is clearly heterosexual. His kid got picked up from the shoot by his mother. Although, Gabriel _had_ said “his mother” and not “my wife.” And he wears no wedding ring. Anyway, even if he was gay, things couldn’t become sexual between them without him finding out about Jack’s little secret.

It’s not as if he’s hidden himself away and stayed celibate like a monk. Jack has had plenty of lovers, and all that. Their reactions have ranged from ignoring it entirely (which he prefers), to being excessively understanding and trying to help with creative solutions to the “problem” (which he loathes). For some reason, however, he finds the idea of Gabriel knowing about it particularly humiliating. He’ll talk to his therapist about it at his session tomorrow. She’ll help him understand it.

 

 

“How does it make you feel?” Dr. Ziegler says calmly, in her soft, Swiss-German inflection. “The idea of this man seeing you naked?”

She is seated in her chair with her customary notebook, and Jack is lying on couch across from her, more because that’s how he’d always seen it done in the movies than from any real need to lie down at the moment.

“I don’t know,” Jack shrugs, staring at the ceiling. “Like, kind of tight in the pit of my stomach. And like…shaky?”

“You feel…afraid? Ashamed?”

“Afraid is closer,” Jack says, after rolling the words around in his head. “I don’t think ashamed is the right way to put it. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Good. That’s very good. This time last year, you expressed feeling a lot of shame about it.”

“I know,” Jack sighs. “I guess I just thought I was finally coming to terms with it, and then this man shows up and asks me to work with him, and I suddenly feel like I’m in the locker room after high-school football practice again, you know?”

“What do you think it is about this particular man that makes you feel afraid?”

“I don’t know. He’s just so…” Jack breaks off and makes an exasperated gesture with his hands. “He’s just so together and cool and kind of…perfect.”

“No one is perfect, Jack,” the doctor says, smiling gently. “Not even this man. Imperfections are what make people unique.”

“That’s what it is,” Jack says, sitting up suddenly. He leans forward earnestly, rubbing his hands together. “That’s exactly what it is. He’s known for photographing a subject’s flaws. Finding the thing they dislike most about themselves and and emphasizing that thing in a way that shows its beauty. What if…what if I’m the one person who…who he can’t—”

Jack breaks off as his voice chokes with sudden emotion. Tears fill his big, ocean-blue eyes. The doctor smiles encouragingly and hands him the box of tissues.

“It’s alright, Jack. Go ahead. What if you’re the one person who he can’t…what?”

Jack dabs his eyes with a tissue and takes a breath to steady himself.

“What if I’m the one person whose flaws he can’t find any beauty in. What if he finds out about my dick and he changes his mind about photographing me. I think…I think that kind of rejection might kill me.”

“And what if it doesn’t kill you?” she asks softly. “What if this man decides he can’t work with you and you survive? What changes?”

Jack hesitates, biting his pouting bottom lip. “I guess…nothing changes.”

“Exactly,” she says. “You are still you. You still have everything about you that makes you valuable as a person. All that has changed is that one man who you have only just met does not happen to think that one aspect of your physical appearance is aesthetically to his liking.”

“I don’t think there are many men who think a micro penis is aesthetically to their liking,” Jack says sardonically.

“Jack, remember what we spoke about? I will not have you use incorrect medical terminology to denigrate yourself. A micro penis is classified as being at least two standard deviations below the average length, or less than two-point-seven-four inches in length when erect. What is your measurement?”

“Two-point-nine inches,” Jack sighs. “Sorry, Dr. Z.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I only wish to remind you that you must not allow yourself to slip back into negative self-talk when you have been doing so well.”

“Thanks, doc. I know. I’ll try harder.”

“So, what are you going to do about this man? Are you going to meet with him?”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I think it is a good idea to care for yourself emotionally. If this is not something you feel you are ready to do, then do not do it.” She pauses. “But I do think this may be a good experience for you, no matter how it turns out.”

“I…I think you’re right,” Jack says slowly. Then he nods. “Yeah. I mean, what’s the harm in meeting with him? It’s a great opportunity. If I feel uncomfortable with him, I can always just say no.”

“I am so glad to hear it,” she smiles. “You are making excellent progress in knowing how to set boundaries and respect them. I will see you next week and you can tell me how it goes, ok?”

“Ok,” Jack smiles. “Thanks, Dr. Z. I will.”

 

 

On Tuesday morning, Jack receives a message from Ana confirming his appointment to meet with Gabriel Thursday evening at seven, at the Brass Horse Lounge (a hip restaurant in Soho, only a few blocks from Jack’s apartment). Jack tries not to spend the next two days agonizing about the meeting and fails miserably. He calls Ana and they devote Wednesday to relieving Jack’s anxiety the way he usually does: by shopping for new clothes.

That evening, he stands in the large, open area of his swanky studio loft that serves as a living room and bedroom, trying on an array of different shoes, and attempting to decide which ones best complement his new pair of tight, ankle-length black jeans. His phone vibrates with a text from an unknown number that reads, “Hey, Jack, it’s Gabriel Reyes. Ana gave me your number. I hope you don’t mind.” Jack adds the contact to his phone and then types a message back.

Jack: Hi Gabriel! I don’t mind at all. What’s up.

Gabriel: Well, unfortunately, I’ve got tied up in Paris and I won’t be back till late tomorrow night. I’m afraid I’m going to have to reschedule our meeting.

Jack’s heart sinks with disappointment.

Jack: Oh sorry, that sucks. When were you thinking?

Gabriel: If you’ve got Friday afternoon free, I’d love to meet you for lunch instead. Say, noon?

Jack sighs. Lunch is definitely just a business meeting.

Jack: Yeah I’m free Friday. Where do you want to go?

A few minutes pass. Jack drums his fingers anxiously on the stainless-steel counter.

Gabriel: That is a question. I never know what kind of meal is going to strike my fancy at any given time.

Gabriel: How about I pick you up and we see where the wind takes us?

Jack: Sounds fun. See you at noon Friday.

He sends his address in a separate message.

Gabriel: Excellent. Thanks for doing this for me. I really hate to flake on an appointment, but you know, sometimes things are out of my control. C’est la vie.

Jack: It’s fine. Just be aware that I expect you to take me somewhere twice as expensive since you dropped the ball like this.

Jack instantly regrets this, and chides himself for making such a flippant joke with a man who barely knows him and might not read the intended playfulness in the tone. His stomach turns with anxiety as he waits to hear back. Five full minutes pass, and he is an utter basket-case when his phone chirps again.

Gabriel: I like a man who knows what he’s worth. It’s a deal. See you Friday, Jack.

Despite the friendly, bantering tone of Gabriel’s response, Jack’s heart pounds and he blushes as if he’s just received the most obscene proposition imaginable. He reads the message over and over again, as if there is some secret code to be deciphered in the short line of text. _I like a man who knows what he’s worth_. Is it possible that this was intended to be flirty? It could certainly be construed that way. It could just as easily be construed the other way. The businesslike _It’s a deal_ , after the phrase seems to suggest it was meant for nothing but good-humored badinage.

At least the ambiguity gives him an interesting problem with which to occupy his mind for the rest of the night. And the next day. On Friday morning, he’s still thinking about it as he frets over is attire for this much-anticipated meeting. At last, he chooses an ivory cashmere boat-neck t-shirt, close-fitting, navy blue, ankle-length twill slacks, brown Oxfords (no socks, since it’s already late spring), and a lightweight black pea coat. He debates over a hat and has finally decided against it, when his phone rings.

“Hey, Jack, it’s Gabriel,” the man’s voice comes through the tiny speaker. “Sorry, I know I’m a few minutes early.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack says agreeably. “Where are you parked?”

“I can’t find anything resembling a parking spot,” Gabriel says. “I’m going to circle the block. Just come down when you’re ready. Mine’s the black Mercedes.”

“Ok, see you in a sec,” Jack chirps.

He slides his phone and wallet into his coat pocket, checks that his hair is perfectly tousled to look as if it hasn’t been styled, grabs his keys, and trots downstairs, heart pounding in his throat and stomach fluttering with anxiety. Gabriel’s glossy, black, late-model Mercedes glides up in front of the building and Jack climbs in, trying his best to conceal his nervousness with a broad, sunny grin.

“Hi, Gabriel,” he says cheerfully. “Sorry about the parking. You know how Soho is.”

Gabriel flashes that enchanting smile. “No worries. I’ve just gotten spoiled having a reserved parking spot at my building. You hungry?”

“Absolutely,” Jack says. “Where we going?”

“That depends. Are you a vegetarian?”

“Are you kidding me?” Jack laughs. “I’m from Indiana. I was basically born with a steak in my mouth.”

Gabriel eyes Jack sidelong as he weaves through the heavy lower-Manhattan traffic. “You’re really a corn-fed Indiana farm boy, huh?”

“Yep. I really am. I lived on an actual farm.”

“An actual farm,” Gabriel repeats, laughing that low, smoky laugh. “With cows and everything?”

“With cows and everything.”

“Wow. That’s a far-cry from how I grew up.”

“Where are you from?”

“Los Angeles. An area of Los Angeles called El Sereno, to be exact. I never even saw a cow in real-life till I was in my twenties.”

“Holy shit,” Jack laughs. “Did you think milk just came from the store?”

“Pretty much. Then we watched a science video about it in school and I didn’t drink it for a month.”

“You haven’t really had milk until you’ve gotten it from the cow yourself,” Jack says, a little wistfully. “There’s nothing like it in the world.”

“Sounds like you miss it.”

“Yeah, but it’s about the only thing I miss. Indiana fucking sucks.”

 

Coeur de Boeuf, the restaurant Gabriel has chosen, is a trendy French steakhouse, where patrons can sit at a stainless-steel counter and see their meals being prepared. They are seated at a table in a quieter corner instead, much to Jack’s relief. They order their food and then sit sipping their drinks and making bland chit-chat. After a few minutes, Gabriel falls silent, gazing intently at Jack over the rim of his glass of red wine.

Jack feels a blush coming on. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, I just like looking at you,” Gabriel says, in his easy, matter-of-fact manner.

Jack is definitely blushing now. He laughs and lowers his eyes bashfully. “Well, I guess that’s not a bad thing. People liking to look at me _is_ my job.”

“Did you always want to model?” Gabriel asks. He still has those keen, dark eyes fixed on Jack.

“Not really,” Jack says, stirring the ice around in his glass. “I don’t think it even occurs to most guys from small towns to think of it as a possible career. I always assumed I’d just work on the farm like my dad did and my grandfather had.”

“How did you get into the business?”

“I just sort of…happened into it. A wedding photographer wanted to show off her work on her website, and she paid me and my girlfriend fifty bucks each to pose. Then some people contacted me for a local ad. Then some more. I did those kind of jobs occasionally for a while, but after my dad kicked me out, I needed more money, so I shopped myself to some agencies and got picked up.”

“Your father kicked you out?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. He takes a deep draught of his ice water. “When he, uh…when I told him I was gay.”

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Gabriel says. “That’s awful.”

Jack shrugs. “It’s ok. I’m pretty much over it now. It’s just…he died a couple years later and we never reconciled. I didn’t even go home for his funeral.”

“What about your mother?”

“Mom died when I was a kid. Left me and dad to run the farm on our own. Dad never remarried because he was too in love with booze, and he let that slowly kill him.”

“That must’ve been difficult for you.”

“Yeah, Gabriel, it was,” Jack says, a little more testily than he’d intended. He winces. “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that. Can we—can we talk about something else?”

“I should apologize,” Gabriel says. “It was impolite of me to pry like that. I tend to get ahead of myself when I want to know everything there is to know about someone.”

Jack raises his big blue eyes and looks into Gabriel’s dark brown ones. “You…want to know everything there is to know about me? Why…?”

“You are fascinating to me, Jack. There’s something about you that’s…different and every instinct I have is telling me to find out what it is.” He smiles self-consciously. “It doesn’t hurt that you’re incredibly attractive, of course.”

The change in the man’s rugged, almost severe face wrought by this unguarded expression takes Jack’s breath away. The dark, mysterious, formidable presence before him is just a man. A very handsome man, with deep brown eyes and long, alluring black eyelashes. Jack thinks he would give every drop of blood in his body to have this man kiss him. To feel those firm, perfectly shaped lips pressed against his. To hear this man whisper his name in desire. His ears feel hot.

“You think—” Jack swallows hard. “You think I’m attractive?”

Gabriel leans back in his chair and laughs. “I believe I said incredibly attractive. But you know that already. As you said, it’s your job.”

Jack laughs, too. But he is keenly aware of a sudden change in his companion. He feels a palpable chill, as if a wall of ice has just snapped up between him and Gabriel.

_This man is trying not to be vulnerable to me. He doesn’t want to let me in._

Jack’s immediate inclination is to push against this wall. See how far he can get. But this is idiotic, considering the reason they’re here talking in the first place.

_Do not offend Gabriel Reyes. You are here to get a job._

By this point, they are halfway through the meal, and Jack has just realized they haven’t spoken a word about the job. He says so.

“I would like to talk about that, yes,” Gabriel says, eyeing him thoughtfully. “But…I’m still not entirely sure you’re right for it.”

“Oh,” Jack says, taken aback. “What would make you sure? I mean, whether I’m right for it or not.”

“I would need to know more about you.”

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“What do you like most about yourself?”

Jack laughs uneasily. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I asked,” Gabriel smiles. “Tell me what you like about you. About Jack.”

Jack is utterly at a loss. No one has asked him a question like this before. His mind goes completely blank. He can’t think of a single thing. He’d have been equally dumbfounded if Gabriel had asked him what he _disliked_ most about himself, but for the opposite reason. As such, he just stares mutely through the man into the middle-distance.

Gabriel’s dark-brown eyes twinkle with merriment. “It’s not a trick question. Just say the first thing that springs to mind.”

“Ok,” Jack says slowly. “I guess…I like that I’m tall.”

“You like that you’re tall?” Gabriel chuckles. “Well, I suppose that’s a start.”

Jack grins. “I like that I’m ridiculously good-looking, too. I mean, my whole income relies on that, so I’m pretty grateful for my unearned genetic gifts.”

Gabriel sets down his fork and studies Jack’s charmingly youthful face. “Are you?”

Jack looks up quickly. The question had been spoken nonchalantly, but he’d detected something deeper beneath it. This is a more serious question than it’s meant to appear at first blush. Gabriel is looking intently into his eyes. Jack looks right back, refusing to be daunted.

“No,” he says flatly, dropping the bantering tone. “I’m not.”

Gabriel cocks his head to one side. “Why is that?”

“Because this…physical thing—this body that isn’t the real me—it’s all I am worth to people. It’s all they see when they look at me. A tall, blonde, athletic guy with a pretty face. A representation of some hyper-masculine ideal. And they judge me based on it, for good or bad, when that’s not what I really am.”

Gabriel contemplates this for a moment. He takes a sip of his red wine and sets the glass down again.

“What are you really, Jack?”

“A coward,” Jack says. He pauses, startled by his own bluntness and by the raw, unvarnished honesty of the sentiment.

His hand shakes as he lifts his water glass to cool his parched throat. How has this man, in an hour of mundane conversation, been able to so thoroughly draw him out like this? He steals a glance at the handsome, austere face across the table. Gabriel is still sitting calmly, considering Jack as if he is a specimen of some strange animal in an exhibit. Something about his attentive gaze makes Jack suddenly feel as if he hasn’t got any clothes on. As if Gabriel can see every molecule of him, laid out before his eyes like a map of the world.

At this inopportune moment, the waiter comes with the bill. Gabriel takes out a black card and hands it to the man without taking his eyes off Jack, who is supremely flustered now. He can’t force himself to meet Gabriel’s intense gaze, so he fidgets with the ice in his glass till the waiter returns and bids them a solicitous farewell.

Jack follows Gabriel to the curb, where they wait quietly for the valet to bring the car around. The loaded silence is tying Jack’s insides into knots of anxiety, but Gabriel appears to be deep in thought, and he doesn’t think it would be wise to disturb him. He sits miserably in the passenger seat as Gabriel steers the car away from the restaurant.

“Jack,” Gabriel says at long, long last. “I don’t think you’re a coward. I think you’re afraid. There’s a difference.”

“How?” Jack says, relieved to be spoken to again. “What’s the difference, Gabriel?”

“A man without fear isn’t courageous, he’s a fool. A man who is afraid, and who chooses to do the right thing despite that fear, is courageous. Courage is a choice, not a feeling. So is cowardice. It is our actions, not our circumstances, that define us.”

The weight of this idea strikes Jack full in the chest. He feels his eyes sting warningly and takes some deep, slow breaths till the embarrassing tearful feeling passes. As they roll up to Jack’s building, there is (by some act of divine providence) an open parking space. Gabriel pulls his slick, black Mercedes into it and puts the vehicle in park.

They’d spent the remainder of the drive in silence, but it hadn’t bothered Jack so much anymore. Gabriel’s words have been working on him the entire time. Slowly kindling his courage, buoying him up for what he’s about to do. As the car stops, he turns to his companion and looks him boldly in the eye.

“Gabriel,” he says steadily. “I want to share something with you. Something about me. Will you come upstairs?”

Gabriel would normally have politely declined such an invitation from a man he’d only known a few days, particularly such a young and obviously emotionally damaged one. But this is clearly not an offer of casual sex. There is something so genuine and earnest in the younger man’s voice and eye, that he finds himself compelled to relent and follow him upstairs to his apartment.

Once inside, Gabriel glances about the spacious, airy studio loft and smiles to himself. Jack is certainly in his twenties. There are shoes all over the floor outside the closet. In a little alcove on the far wall, there is a large, unmade, platform-style bed, in the center of which, a sleek grey-and-white cat is dozing in the rumpled linens. There are articles of fashionable clothing draped over the backs of dining chairs, and the less said about the computer desk the better. The kitchen is spotless—no crumbs on counters or dishes in the sink—and the hardwood floors are glossy and dust-free. The place isn’t dirty, just messy. It tells Gabriel a lot about Jack. He’d be clean, if he weren’t such a fucking mess.

Jack kicks off his shoes and takes bottles of water from the fridge for Gabriel and himself. He shrugs off his black pea-coat and hangs it over a chair, as Gabriel takes a seat on the grey sofa. It’s mid-afternoon and bright sunlight streams in through the glass doors leading to Jack’s balcony, opposite the sofa.

Gabriel sits patiently, watching Jack pace fretfully in and out of the sunbeam. Jack finally comes to a stop in front of Gabriel. He’s twisting and crinkling the plastic water bottle in his hands, so Gabriel takes it away and sets it down. Jack doesn’t seem to notice.

“Ok, listen,” he says. “This is nothing about you. I trust you. I have to be honest, though, my anxiety is off the charts right now.”

“Do you really trust me, Jack?” Gabriel says seriously. “Because I’m not comfortable being here if you don’t feel safe.”

“What?” Jack says, as if perplexed by the idea. He waves it away. “No, I feel totally safe with you. But I’m about to make myself very vulnerable. I—I need you to swear you’ll keep my secret.”

Gabriel gazes up at him for a moment. “As long as it’s not something that could hurt you or someone else, anything you share with me stays strictly between us, unless you explicitly tell me otherwise.”

Jack nods anxiously. “Ok. Thank you, Gabriel.”

He rubs his hands together and glances about, uncertain how to proceed. He can’t just strip off his clothes in the middle of the living room in front of this near-stranger. The man will think he’s lost his mind. An idea occurs to him and he trots off to the bathroom, asking Gabriel to give him a minute.

Gabriel hears Jack moving about in the bathroom as he waits. He gets up and gazes out the glass balcony door, with an increasing feeling of apprehension for Jack’s emotional state. His manner has been intense and almost manic since they left the restaurant. He takes out his phone, half intending to call Ana and make sure the kid is ok, when he hears Jack’s footsteps on the hardwood floor behind him.

He slides his phone back into the pocket of his grey blazer and turns. His knees almost buckle at the sight the awaits him. Jack is standing there, looking like a renaissance painting of an angel. His hair is a tousled, pale-gold mess in the brilliant sunlight, which makes his satiny skin appear to be lit from within. He is wearing the short, powder-blue silk robe from the shoot the other day. Gabriel tries not to guess what he’s wearing beneath it.

He curses under his breath in Spanish and fights with every muscle in his body against the urge to take this young demigod in his arms and devour his perfect, pouting mouth. Instead, he crosses to the sofa and sits down. He opens the cap of his water bottle and takes a long swallow of the cold water, keeping his eyes on Jack, as if he thinks the boy might spring on him suddenly.

Jack steps timidly closer, till he is standing almost within arm’s reach. Gabriel sits perfectly still, mesmerized, as Jack’s trembling hands come up and undo the long, silk tie that holds the robe closed. He lets it fall back on his shoulders, exposing his body to Gabriel’s view. Gabriel’s dark-brown eyes drift languidly down Jack’s flawlessly-carved torso, following the neatly-groomed trail of curly blonde hair, and coming to rest at last on the skintight, salmon-pink, European-cut briefs from the shoot.

“I see,” he says at last. His voice is tight and controlled. “And when you’re…fully—”

“Erect?” Jack assists. “Three inches. Well, two-point-nine, to be accurate.”

He has never spoken this aloud to anyone but Dr. Ziegler. He never thought he would. But now that he has, he finds that he feels instantly better. Less ashamed. Almost liberated.

“May I—” Gabriel breaks off and clears his throat. “Would you mind if I…”

Jack slides his fingers under the waistband of the briefs. He watches closely for Gabriel’s reaction as he peels them off and steps out of them, but the man’s face is unreadable. He sits gazing silently for what seems to Jack like hours (but in reality, is likely closer to fifteen seconds).

“So…you still think you’d want to work with me?” Jack asks, shifting apprehensively.

He has no way of knowing that there is a big, glowing weak-spot in the center of Gabriel’s being, and he has just struck the mark with deadly precision. Gabriel’s brown eyes travel up to meet Jack’s blue ones.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “Jesus fuck, Jack…you’re so beautiful.”

Jack doesn’t know what kind of reaction he’d been expecting, but this had certainly not been it. He’s been called beautiful a million times, but it has never been said to him the way Gabriel said it just now, as if his whole soul had been poured into the words. Jack has never been spoken to in that way by anyone. It touches a deep chord of tender, aching longing within him that he hadn’t even known was there.

“You can’t…really mean that, Gabriel.” Tears choke Jack’s voice and spill down his cheeks. “I’m not—”

“I don’t say anything I don’t mean,” Gabriel says sternly. “You are beautiful. You are _perfect_.”

He rises slowly, holding Jack’s gaze with his. Jack’s pupils dilate, almost swallowing his sea-blue irises. His breath hitches as Gabriel reaches up and wipes the tears from his cheeks.

“I want to kiss you, Jack,” Gabriel says. “I want to kiss you very badly. But—”

“Please,” Jack says. “Please kiss me.”

Gabriel cranes his neck down and presses his lips to Jack’s cheek.

“Kiss me, Gabriel,” Jack repeats. He turns his head, trying to find Gabriel’s mouth, but Gabriel catches his chin and holds it firmly still.

“Not yet,” he purrs. His breath is hot on Jack’s ear. “I am going kiss you, Jack. And I’m going to fuck you. But not yet.”

Jack’s entire body thrums to the soft, sonorous voice, infusing those words into his bloodstream. _I am going kiss you, Jack. And I am going to fuck you._ No uncertainty, no hesitation, no asking if they can go out again. Just stating it as fact. And it is. Jack knows it is.

“When?” he breathes, pushing his nose into Gabriel’s warm, deliciously scented neck. “When, Gabriel?”

“When I’m ready,” Gabriel says, gently disengaging himself from Jack’s embrace. “When _you’re_ ready.”

Jack thinks he’s pretty god damned ready right now. He gives an irritated little huff as Gabriel pulls the robe back up and ties it closed.

“What do you mean, ready?” he pouts. “I thought we were…connecting, here.”

Gabriel reaches out and strokes his cheek. “Don’t pout, _lindo_. I mean I’m not ready to be physical with you yet. And you might think you are, but you’re not ready either. Not in a healthy way, at least.”

Jack’s pride is already bruised by what he perceives to be a rejection, and this matter-of-fact assessment of himself by a man he’s just met only needles the wound further. Thank god for Dr. Ziegler’s lessons on communicating his emotions. A year ago, Jack would have been making an absolute scene at this point. Instead, he stands his ground and crosses his arms self-protectively.

“Gabriel, I shared an extremely intimate thing with you, that literally one other person in the world knows about. I’ve made myself very vulnerable, and I’m feeling rejected because you haven’t reciprocated.”

Gabriel smiles sadly. If this beautiful child only knew how much of the guarded, wary man’s carefully-constructed defenses he’d just demolished, perhaps he’d be inclined to be a little more forgiving.

“Is that what you think, Jack?” he says softly, pulling the younger man into his arms again. “That I’ve rejected you?”

“Well…not exactly,” Jack says slowly. He’s finding it difficult to hang onto his indignation with his body pressed against Gabriel’s broad, hard chest like this. “I’m just not used to—”

“Being told no?” Gabriel says, playfully nuzzling Jack’s smooth jaw with his bristly chin.

Jack smiles in spite of himself. “I guess I’m not used to it, no.”

“Would you like to learn to get used to it?”

“What do you mean?” Jack asks, laughing uneasily.

“I mean that if you want it—if you need it—I will teach you how to be told no.”

“Why would I want to learn…about that?”

Gabriel leans close to whisper into Jack’s ear. “Because it makes ‘yes’ so much better.”

Jack’s heart skips about a dozen beats. His entire body hums with a sudden thrill of breathless exhilaration that is not quite fear, but might be a close relative. He pulls away to look up into Gabriel’s dark-brown eyes.

“It—what?” He almost pants.

Gabriel answers by pressing his mouth to Jack’s. He parts those soft, rosy lips gently and their tongues slide forward to caress each other’s. Suddenly awash in the scent and taste and warmth of the man, Jack’s head spins and his legs wobble unsteadily. He reaches up and twines his fingers into Gabriel’s silky, brown-black hair, pulling him into a deeper, more urgent kiss. Gabriel allows this for a moment—far too short a moment, as far as Jack is concerned—then draws away, biting and tugging at Jack’s bottom lip as he does so.

Jack gives a little whine of protest. “Kiss me, Gabriel. Kiss me again.”

“No, cariño,” Gabriel says. “Not yet. But I will.”

Jack gives a theatrical sigh and flops onto the sofa. Gabriel laughs and kisses the crown of his blonde head.

“I’ve got to go, Jack,” he says, smiling down at the blonde, who raises his blue eyes to look up at him. “I don’t like to leave Jesse at home by himself after school for too long. The housekeeper is there, but he gets into mischief when he feels ignored.”

“Yeah, that sounds wise,” Jack smiles. “Tell him I said hi, ok?”

“I will.” Gabriel takes out his phone and taps the screen. “Are you working this weekend?”

“No, I’m pretty open right now, actually. I have a runway show next Tuesday, but I don’t have another big shoot for two weeks.”

“Would you like to go out with Jesse and me tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Jack blinks. He had not imagined Gabriel would want him to spend time with his son.

_Of course, yes, you idiot! He’s a dad! The kid is part of his life!_

“I mean, yeah,” he laughs. “I just…wasn’t expecting that so soon.”

“Jack, listen,” Gabriel says frankly. “I don’t date much. Between Jesse and my work, I’m incredibly busy. I’m also too old to be interested in fucking around. I am interested in you. I want to know you and I want you to know me. Jesse is part of the deal. So, if that’s too much pressure, now’s the time to back out.”

Jack’s face flushes with heat at Gabriel’s rather blunt assertion, and the mild chastisement it seems to carry.

“I understand, Gabriel. I would really like to go out with you and Jesse tomorrow. Thank you for inviting me.”

Gabriel flashes his gorgeous smile. “Good. We’ll pick you up at noon.”

 

After Gabriel has gone, Jack goes to find his phone. He has a missed call from Ana and a text.

Ana: Hey, how’d it go?

Only now does it occur to Jack that Gabriel never explained the job they met to talk about. It also occurs to him that he doesn’t give a damn about that job or any other, so long as he gets to kiss Gabriel Reyes again.

Jack: Hey sorry I just got this. Gabriel left a second ago.

Ana: Well? Are we going to work with him??

Jack: Yeah, about that. We didn’t exactly get around to talking about the job. ;)

Ana: OMG WHAT???

Ana: I’m coming over.

Jack: Are you bringing me a coffeeeee?

Ana: Fuck off.

Ana: Yes I am.

Jack: Love you Banana <3

Ana: Love you too, Sugar Smack.

 

 

 

 


	2. Tranquillité Domestique

“Jackie, do I need to have a word with the housekeeper again?” Ana asks, as she walks in the door.

Jack looks up from the sofa and glances around. “About what?”

“Why is your apartment a war zone?”

“Oh, the clothes,” Jack says. “I did all this yesterday. I couldn’t pick an outfit. Ooooh coffee! Thank you!”

Ana hands him the cup marked “jack dec amer” and begins to sit down beside him.

She stops, eyeing him suspiciously. “Jack, you two didn’t fuck on this couch did you?”

“No!” Jack laughs. “We didn’t have sex.”

“Oh, pooh. I got all excited to hear steamy details. What did you two do for four hours, then? If you didn’t talk about the job and you didn’t have sex?”

“Well, lunch took two hours, to be fair. Then we just…talked. And he—we kissed. Once.”

“Ok, now it’s getting interesting,” she says. “Spill it. How was it?”

Jack sighs and drops back into the sofa cushions. “It was like…I’d never been kissed before.”

Ana pats his knee in mock sympathy. “You did that badly, huh?”

“Shut up!” Jack laughs. “You know what I mean! It was completely amazing. I felt totally safe and wanted and…he _really_ knew what he was doing.”

“I can imagine,” Ana says.

“But I have to—”

“Sh. I’m still imagining.”

“Asshole. I have to tell you something.”

“Oh, Jackie, I know what they told you in Indiana public school sex-ed, but you can’t get pregnant just by kissing a man.”

“Ana! Listen! I’m being serious.”

“Sorry, the caffeine is making me wild. I’m listening.”

“I told him about my…my—” Jack stops short and blushes red as a rose.

“Holy shit, Jackie,” Ana says, dropping her teasing manner. “What did he say? How did you tell him? _Why_ did you tell him?”

“Ok, one question at a time,” he says. “I asked him to come up and I told him he had to swear not to tell anyone and then I…well, I couldn’t figure out how to say it, so I went and changed into my outfit from the shoot. To kind of ease myself into it.”

“What did he do?”

“He asked if he could see it. Or, I think he was going to ask that. I took off the underwear before he had a chance to finish his question.”

“Uh…”

“No, I know how its sounds, but it wasn’t—like—sexual, if that makes sense.”

“You got naked in front of one the sexiest men alive, but it wasn’t sexual. Of course it makes sense,” she smirks. “But, Jackie, why didn’t you just tell him? That seems a little extreme.”

“I wanted to know how he’d really react to seeing me. Like, without time to prepare a polite response.”

“How did he react?”

Jack looks down at his coffee cup and smiles softly. “He said I was beautiful. He said I was…perfect.”

“You are beautiful and perfect, baby! You are!” Ana says, emphatically. “You deserve to hear that all the time.”

“You tell me all the time, Banana,” Jack says, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek. “And it means a lot to me. But it was different hearing it from a man like him, you know?”

“I know, I know. It’s different coming from someone you’d actually have sex with.” She sighs and puts the back of her hand on her forehead like a heroine in a tragic play. “No, no, don’t mind me. I’ll just be here wasting away in the corner with the other unfuckable old people.”

“Ana, you have more dates than I do,” Jack says, cocking a blonde eyebrow. “And you know how hot you are, so shut the fuck up.”

“I am pretty hot,” she grins. “So, what happened after that? Sweet makeouts in your birthday suit?”

“Not…exactly,” Jack says, frowning thoughtfully. “He said he wanted to kiss me and I said yes please do that—cause obviously—and then he kissed my fucking cheek. My cheek!”

“He kissed your…cheek. On your face? Ow! I was kidding! Then what?”

“He said that…he wanted to wait to have sex until he was ready and I was ready, which pissed me off. Then he gave me a real kiss. After that, I was not so pissed off.”

“He said he wanted to wait to have sex until you’re both ready? Jesus Christ, what is he, Clark Gable?”

“Who is Clark Gable?”

“You goddamn kids these days,” Ana grumbles. “He was a movie actor from the 1950s. It doesn’t matter. I meant that sounds pretty old-fashioned.”

“Yeah,” Jack says dreamily. “Like a real gentleman.”

“I suppose,” Ana says, frowning down at her coffee cup.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, Jackie. It’s just that all of this…it kind of sounds too good to be true.”

Jack’s smile freezes. “You think…maybe he’s playing games with me?”

“No, no,” Ana says, shaking her head. “Sorry, baby, I just get really protective when it comes to you. But I didn’t get any weird warning bells about him, and I do think he is a good man.”

Jack’s smile returns. “I do, too, Ana. I really do.”

“He better be,” she says fiercely. “Because I will seriously fucking end him if he hurts you.”

“Aw, my big strong knight in shining armor!” Jack laughs. “What would I do without you?”

“You would forget to pay your rent, never eat anything but ice cream, get lost on your way to the grocery store, and wind up in a psychiatric hospital.”

“I wouldn’t get lost!” Jack says indignantly. “I’d just never go anywhere. I don’t even know the number to the car service.”

“Jack, it is in your phone under ‘Car Service,’” she says patiently. “I have showed it to you.”

“I know, Banana,” Jack grins. “I know how to do things for myself. I’m just trying to make you feel useful.”

“Indeed,” she replies. “You are doing a very good job, too. Thank you. So, are you seeing him again?”

Jack nods eagerly in the middle of a sip of coffee and almost spills it.

Ana stifles a laugh. “When?”

“He asked me to go out with him and Jesse tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she says, raising her perfectly-sculpted black brows in surprise. “He asked you to spend time with him and his son? Already?”

“Yeah.”

She winces. “You didn’t freak out did you?”

“No! Yes. A little. But I did say yes.”

“This is…kind of a big deal, Jackie,” Ana says slowly. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

“I don’t know,” Jack shrugs. “But I like him, and he said he wanted me to know him and that Jesse was part of the deal, so—”

“No,” Ana cuts him off, suddenly looking very grave. “Listen to me, Jack. You don’t have a child, so you might not understand. I wouldn’t let someone I wasn’t serious about within ten city blocks of Fareeha. Most of the people I have dated casually never even saw her. If Gabriel is the man I think he is, he’s just as careful with Jesse. So before you go out with them, you had better be sure you’re aware of the implications.”

“I am, Ana,” Jack says defensively. “I really like him. I’m not looking for a one-night stand.”

“I’m sorry, Sugar Smack,” she says, giving his hand a conciliatory squeeze. “I know you’re taking it seriously. I just go into mama-bear mode at the drop of a hat these days. Fareeha is at that age where she’s trying to assert her independence all the time now, so I’m feeling extra mothery.”

“I like you mothery,” he says, resting his blonde head on her petite shoulder. “Everyone needs a mother sometimes. Especially me.”

“You really do,” she says. She kisses his forehead and strokes his soft, blonde hair. “I love you so much, Jackie.”

“I love you, too, Ana. Thank you for…you know. Everything.”

“Aw, Jack, you don’t have to thank me. I do what I do because I like taking care of you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And because you pay me.”

“I knew it,” Jack laughs. “I knew this was all a scam to get absurdly underpaid for looking after a helpless adult infant’s every want and need.”

“Well, I had experience taking care of a real one, so it wasn’t a huge leap,” she shrugs. “So. On to the important question. What are you going to wear on your father-son date?”

“Ew, that makes it sound like I’m going on a date with my dad,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “I’m thinking casual. But, like…not too casual. Nice casual.”

“Ok,” she nods. “You just described your entire wardrobe, so at least you have narrowed it down to clothing you own.”

“I know,” he grins sheepishly. “Could you help me?”

“Ugh, you are the worst at gay,” she says, getting up to follow him to his overflowing closet. “Do we need to hire you a stylist?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, startling her and earning himself a slap on the arm. “That’s what I need! A stylist. I was just thinking about that, but I couldn’t remember of the word.”

“What did I just say. The _worst_.”

Ana nudges Jack out of the way, steps over his shoes into the closet, and within a minute, has emerged with an armful of clothing. She hangs the items on one of the hat-pegs built into the wall beside the closet door, so he can see the ensemble put together. She has chosen slightly faded, dark-grey skinny jeans, a white v-neck undershirt, a v-neck sweater in a deep, cranberry shade that suits Jack’s complexion beautifully, and a pair of stylish, wingtip boots in warm cognac leather.

“Ana, this is perfect,” he says delightedly. “Maybe you should be my stylist.”

“Not a chance,” she calls back from inside the closet. “It’s about time I had someone new to yell at around here. Where is your brown belt?”

“I don’t think I had one,” he says absently, looking at his phone.

“No, you didn’t. You had three. I can’t imagine where they all went, Jack,” she says as she emerges from the closet again. “We really have to—who are you texting? Is that him?”

“Yeah,” Jack frowns. “He says Jesse is feeling a bit under the weather, and would I mind…” he looks up at her wide-eyed. “…having a lunch at his place.”

“He’s already inviting you to his house? Jesus, Jackie, how good was that kiss? No—don’t tell me again. I’m single right now and I don’t need to hear about how much you love making out with your sexy grown-up boyfriend. He’s my age, you know.”

“Is he?” Jack says thoughtfully. “I don’t think you’re right. He looks a lot older than you.”

“Nice try, Sugar Smack,” she laughs. “I know you spent the whole week stalking his details online. You probably know more about him than I do.”

“No,” he says, avoiding her eye. “I mean…I may have happened to stumble on a profile of him in Aperture magazine. And Vogue. And Rolling Stone.”

“That’s a lot of stumbling. Maybe we should get you an appointment with a neurologist. Did you land in anything interesting?”

“Well, he’s thirty-seven. He’s from LA—which I already knew—and he’s divorced, which we figured, because kid. But I did find out something pretty amazing. Did you know he was in the military?”

“I didn’t,” she says. “Impressive. What branch?”

“He was—get this—a green fucking beret.”

“Jesus. How do you go from special forces to fashion photography?”

“The article said he was captivated by the suffering of civilian people he met in combat zones, and he wanted to remember their stories, so he started taking pictures. Some of them got declassified and were published in Time magazine and National Geographic and stuff. Then after he left the military, a bunch of publications around the world wanted him to do photo essays for them, so he ended up making a career of it. He’s only been doing fashion photography for a couple of years, and he’s really picky about who he agrees to work for.”

She nods. “I did know about that. I was surprised that Recherché was able to get him for a summer feature. Gabriel Reyes is notorious in the business for two things: taking the best photographs you’ll ever see, and refusing offers from influential people who aren’t accustomed to being told no.”

Jack’s face flushes suddenly, as Gabriel’s offer to teach him to be told no rings in his ears. “He…ha, notorious, huh?”

“Jack, that wasn’t even a sentence,” Ana says. “What’s wrong? You’re all pink.”

“He, um…mentioned something like that. It’s nothing. Hey, do you and Fareeha want to have dinner tonight?”

Ana eyes him cagily. “Sure, but I’m not cooking.”

“Oh, that’s ok,” Jack chirps. “I’ll cook.”

“I guess I _am_ cooking,” she sighs. “Seven?”

“Perfect. But let me take you guys out. Fareeha said she wanted to try that Lebanese place on sixth.”

“Sounds great. So…are you going to answer him?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jack grins. “I probably should. See you at seven!”

 

 

The next day at 11:45, Jack is seated in the back of the service’s town car, fidgeting with his phone and mulling over what Ana had said about Gabriel’s reputation for liking to say no to influential people. What if this is some kind of bizarre power game? What if he’s one of those kink people who likes to put other people on leashes and train them like dogs?

He is still trying to make himself dislike this idea, when he knocks at the door of Gabriel’s apartment, a penthouse on the fortieth floor of a posh Tribeca high-rise. Gabriel opens the door and smiles, instantly obliterating Jack’s capacity to reason.

“Hey, Jack,” he says cheerfully. “Come on in. Lunch is almost ready.”

_He’s wearing glasses. Jesus Christ. Glasses. I am going to die._

“Hi, Gabriel,” Jack says, smiling shyly as he enters. “I like your glasses.”

“Oh, thanks,” Gabriel laughs. “Jesse says they make me look like an old man.”

“Yeah—I mean—no. They, uh…they look really good.”

“Well, maybe I’ll have to wear them more often,” Gabriel grins.

He leads Jack down the marble-tiled entry hall. Jack notices at this point that Gabriel is barefoot. Maybe he should’ve taken off his shoes.

“Should I take off my shoes?”

“No, no,” Gabriel says. “It’s not a thing we do. I’m just being lazy today. Can I get you something to drink? Glass of wine?”

“Oh, just—water, please,” Jack says clumsily. “I don’t want to get…puffy.”

They pass through a vast, sparsely-decorated living room in which the entire wall is comprised of huge, floor to ceiling windows. The view of the city is spectacular and Jack wants to stop and look, but he doesn’t mention it. He has become far more interested in the enticing aromas emanating from the large, open kitchen. Jack takes a seat on a stool at the bar while Gabriel fetches him a bottle of water from the tall, stainless-steel refrigerator.

The kitchen has black marble counters and one of those hanging pot-racks that Jack always liked, but never had use for, and so never got around to having installed in his place. The glossy black stove, which appears to be gas-operated, is covered in cast-iron pots and pans, from which the delicious smells are steaming into the air. It occurs to Jack that there doesn’t seem to be a cook present.

_Is Gabriel cooking? Is he an actual perfect human being?_

“Jesse, come say hi to Jack!” Gabriel calls out, lifting a lid and stirring whatever is bubbling inside. “Alright, looks like it’s just about ready.”

When he turns around, the lenses of his glasses are steamed up, and Jack bursts out laughing.

_Glasses, cooking, and he’s also adorable. I am so fucked._

“I guess that’s why abuelita always took hers off to cook,” Gabriel says, grinning sheepishly. 

He removes his glasses and sets them on top of the—

_Oh God. That’s an espresso machine. He is literally the man of my dreams._

At that moment, Jesse comes briskly into the room and says hello. Jack turns to greet him, but the boy’s face gives him a palpable start. His right eye is swollen and bears an ugly black bruise around the socket. His lower lip is also swollen and discolored, and Jack can see two stitches in it.

“Oh, Jesse, are you alright?” Jack asks. He glances at Gabriel, then back at Jesse. “What happened?”

“Go ahead,” Gabriel says to Jesse, who is looking at him. “You can tell Jack.”

“I fell down some stairs,” Jesse drawls, in his inexplicable semi-southern accent.

“Stairs?” Jack says, mystified.

“Yup,” Jesse replies. He slides onto the stool beside Jack’s. “I fell down ‘em pretty fuckin’ hard. All three of ‘em.”

Jack looks at Gabriel, who is glaring fiercely at the tomato he is slicing.

“A couple of little shithead punks at Jesse’s school jumped him in the parking lot. Luckily, a teacher and a security guard intervened before it got too bad.” Gabriel looks sternly at his son. “Those boys could have wound up in the hospital.”

Jack gazes at the tall, lanky teenager, trying to comprehend what is meant by this.

“Don’t you worry, sunshine,” Jesse says, flashing a devilish grin. “I went easy on ‘em.”

“Jesse, watch the nicknames with people you’ve just met, ok?” Gabriel says. “It’s disrespectful.”

“Oh, I—I don’t mind,” Jack says, still searching the boy’s face. “What do you mean, you went easy on them?”

“Jesse is a very competent, if far too hotheaded, boxer,” Gabriel explains. “He defended himself, with which I have no problem. However, judging from the state of the other children, I think he may have exceeded necessity.”

“I didn’t give ‘em nothin’ they ain’t had comin’, pa,” Jesse says indignantly. “What kinda folks run around takin’ a fella by surprise and outnumbered and callin’ him faggot and shit? I can’t abide that.”

“I’m glad you defended yourself, mijo,” Gabriel says. “But you are bigger and faster and stronger than other boys your age, and you’ve been trained to fight. If you had seriously injured those kids, the court wouldn’t care what your reasons were. They’d take one look at you and me, decide we were a couple of thugs, and throw the book at you.”

“But, Gabriel,” Jack interjects, “doesn’t them using a homophobic slur make it a hate crime? I mean, they can’t blame Jesse for fighting back in that case, right?”

“The security cameras don’t have audio,” Gabriel says, shaking his head. “The school called me and told me my son had attacked some other boys. I knew it was bullshit. They didn’t even bother to look at the tape until I showed up and raised hell. Then they did some serious fucking boot-licking and suspended the other boys. But there was no proof that they’d used those slurs, so the police refused to take it into account. That’s why they weren’t expelled.”

“Jesus,” Jack says. “It’s fucking sickening that this is still going on. I’m so sorry, Jesse. I…know what that’s like.”

Jesse’s hard expression softens a little. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do. My Junior year, a rumor went around that I was gay, and some of the guys from the lacrosse team beat the shit out of me after school one day. They broke my nose and fractured my eye socket and cracked two of my ribs. But I wasn’t nearly as tough as you. And back then, there was no one in authority who gave a damn. The coach called it roughhousing and the police didn’t even return my call.”

Jesse stares at Jack with his big, amber-brown eyes. “What about your pa? Wadn’t he mad?”

Jack smiles bitterly. “My dad was mad, yeah. He was mad that I couldn’t work around the farm for a few weeks. And he, uh…told me it was my fault anyway.”

Jesse’s eyes snap with indignation. Now he looks so much like his father that Jack almost smiles, despite the seriousness of the conversation.

“Your pa sounds like a real son of a b—”

“Jesse,” Gabriel admonishes. “Watch it.”

“It’s ok,” Jack laughs. “He’s not wrong. My dad was a fucking asshole. And a bigot and a drunk. You’re lucky to have a father who understands you, Jesse. I wish I’d had that.”

“I’m real sorry about your pa bein’ a asshole, Jack,” the boy says solemnly. “But my pa’s your friend now, so if anyone fucks with you, he’ll give ‘em what-for. Won’t you, pa.”

The childlike earnestness of the statement touches Jack’s heart and makes both him and Gabriel laugh merrily.

“Damn right I will,” Gabriel says, reaching across the bar to ruffle the boy’s shaggy hair. “What are you doing lounging around in here, though? Don’t you have math homework, you rascal?”

“I done it already,” Jesse says. “I was doin’ the last one when you said Jack was here.”

“What about your Japanese?”

“Genji’s comin’ over to help me with it later.”

“Ok, then I guess you can set the table,” Gabriel grins.

“Aw, boo! You suck!”

Jesse pretends to pout as he hops up and goes to the cabinet. Jack watches the father and son in the kitchen together. Gabriel gives Jesse a taste of whatever he’s cooking as he takes out the dishes. Jesse playfully jostles his father as he walks past with a stack of plates, and Gabriel swats him with a bar towel. The easy, companionable affection between them nearly breaks Jack’s heart.

He wonders how he’d be different if he’d had a father like Gabriel. Then he feels exceedingly uncomfortable with the thought, because he’s also very interested in having sex with Gabriel. Jack is young, after all, and he’s never been with a man this much older than himself. The idea of a man who is both a father and a lover has simply never occurred to him. The realization immediately makes him feel naïve and a little bit stupid.

“Hey, Jack,” Gabriel says, pulling him out of his reverie. “Thanks for that. Jesse looks up to you, and I know it meant a lot to him that you shared your experience with him. He’s acting tough now, but he cried a lot last night. He’s still just a kid and those things they said confused him and hurt him.”

“Of course,” Jack says. “I’d be happy to talk to him any time. He’s a lot more grown up than I expected. A lot more than I was at fourteen.”

“More than I was, too,” Gabriel says, smiling ruefully. “The world moves a lot faster now than it did back then. Kids have to adapt a lot faster than we did. I just…don’t want him to grow up too fast, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “He’s a really sweet kid.”

“He’s sweet sometimes,” Gabriel says, in a louder tone, as Jesse has just reentered the room. “Most of the time he’s a pain in my fucking ass.”

“Oh yeah?” Jesse shoots back, sauntering past him to the silverware drawer. “You better watch out, old man. Maybe I’ll kick your ass. Put a real pain in it.”

“Don’t get too big for your britches, pendejo,” Gabriel laughs. “You couldn’t take me if I was on crutches.”

“We’ll see about that,” Jesse mutters as he collects the silverware.

“What was that?”

“Hm? I didn’t say anything. Maybe you gettin’ senile and hearin’ shit.”

The three men sit down to the incredibly delicious meal Gabriel has prepared, consisting of a variety of Mexican dishes Jack does not know the names for. His favorite among them is a hearty soup that Gabriel calls Pozole, and which seems to have giant, white kernels of corn in it. Jesse laughs and asks if Jack has never seen hominy before. Jack’s mouth is essentially on fire, having just bitten into a jalapeno pepper unawares, or he’d laugh, too.

“So, Jesse, you’re studying Japanese?” Jack says, as Gabriel is fetching him more water.

“Yep,” Jesse says. “It’s kinda hard, though, cause I keep gettin’ it all tangled up with my French and Spanish.”

“You’re learning three languages?” Jack asks, not understanding.

“Naw, I speak French and Spanish already. I’m doin’ Japanese cause we gotta take a foreign language to graduate.”

“Oh. Well, why didn’t you take one of those instead?”

Jesse looks perplexed. “Cause I already know ‘em.”

“But that would make the class an easy A, right?”

“I reckon,” Jesse says. “But ain’t that the same as cheatin’?”

“I…never thought of it that way,” Jack says. “I guess you’re right.”

He shifts in his seat, not entirely comfortable with the idea that he may be both less educated and less honest than Gabriel’s fourteen-year-old son. Gabriel comes back at that moment with Jack’s ice water, and Jack can see by the knowing smirk on his face that he heard the entire interchange. They chat a bit about the shoot the other day, and modeling in general, and the meal progresses pleasantly. They are nearly finished, when they hear the front door open.

Jack looks questioningly at Gabriel. “Are you expecting someone?”

“Well, only Mel and the housekeeper have keys, so—”

Gabriel hops up as a tall, slender, exquisitely beautiful woman comes gliding into the room. Her long, black hair is pulled up in a high ponytail and she is wearing a finely tailored pale-lilac pants suit. What appears to be a black leather corset is visible beneath the open jacket. Jack immediately recognizes her as Amélie Lacroix, a former runway model and current owner of an extremely successful design house in Paris. He wonders confusedly why Amélie Lacroix has keys to Gabriel’s house.

“Hey, Mel,” Gabriel is saying, as he kisses her on both cheeks. “We weren’t expecting you till tomorrow. How’d you get away?”

“Oh, you know,” she says languidly, in a melodic french accent. “Those things never take as long as one expects. I am not interrupting, I hope.”

“Not at all,” Gabriel says, walking arm in arm with her to the table. “This is Jack, the young man I told you about. Jack, this is Mel, my…ex-wife.”

Jack rises to shake her hand, feeling more awkward and out of place than he ever has, which for Jack, is saying something.

“Hello, Mel,” he says stiffly. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am”

“Oh, no no no,” she scolds teasingly. “Do not say ‘ma’am’ to me. I am not an old granny yet. It is very good to meet you as well, Jack. And may I say, you are even more lovely in person.”

Jack rewards this compliment with a blush and a boyish smile as he resumes his seat, which appears to please her exceedingly. He watches in awe as she wraps her arms around Jesse’s shoulders and kisses his mop of shaggy hair, and the two speak to each other in soft, fluent French. This family is full of surprises. He looks at Gabriel, who is observing him with some unaccustomed apprehension on his face. Jack smiles, though he does not feel it, and he can see that Gabriel knows how uncomfortable he is.

“Hey, Mel,” Gabriel says. “I was going to take Jack out on he balcony and show him the view. Do you mind if we excuse ourselves for a little while?”

“Not at all, Gabi,” she says genially. “You two go and do your things. Jesse and I will be perfectly fine.”

Jack follows Gabriel out the glass door onto the positively Olympian balcony. He forgets his anxiety for a moment, and loses himself in the breathtaking view.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Gabriel says from beside him. “This is…a lot, isn’t it.”

Jack turns to look at him. His skin is a warm, honey-brown in the brilliant afternoon sun, and his dark hair seems to have more dimension and color than usual. Jack wonders where he got those singular scars, that add to, rather than detract from his masculine beauty.

“My anxiety is just…how I am all the time, Gabriel,” Jack says at last. “I don’t know anything about your life yet, so I don’t know what to expect, and that makes things confusing to me. But I’m not upset or anything.”

“I know. But I haven’t done much to ease your mind. I’ve asked a lot of you and given very little back. I apologize. Would you like to know more about me?”

“Yes,” Jack smiles. “Tell me what you like most about yourself.”

Gabriel wants to kiss that sunlit smile more than anything in the world, but he satisfies himself with brushing a straying blonde strand back from Jack’s forehead.

“What I like most about myself is my family,” he says. “I wouldn’t be anything without them. My abuela raised me and my sisters while my mother worked. I owe everything I am to them. Mel is my ex-wife, but she’s also my best friend and part of my family. We own this place together, and she stays here when she’s not in Paris. Jesse is the person who brings me the most joy in the world, and Olivia is the one who makes me the most proud.”

“Olivia?” Jack says, now thoroughly lost. “The…wardrobe supervisor from the Yves St. Laurent shoot?”

Gabriel laughs. “Olivia is the wardrobe supervisor for all my shoots. She is also my daughter.”

“So…you have…two children,” Jack says, attempting not to hyperventilate. “One of whom is an adult. And your ex-wife…lives with you.”

“She stays here when she is not in Paris, which is often, yes.”

“Oh,” Jack says breathlessly. “And um…you’re gay, right?”

“Yes.”

“But…you have kids.”

“I was in denial for many, many years.”

“Two kids.”

“I was really good at denial.”

“Ha, de—denial,” Jack pants.

He puts his hands on the railing to steady himself while he tries to remember how to breathe. Gabriel steps behind him and wraps his large, heavy arms around him, pressing Jack’s body flush against his. Jack takes a deep breath, then sighs as he melts into the safety of the embrace. He lets his head fall back onto Gabriel’s shoulder. It’s as if a spell has been cast over him. All of the anxiety and fear seem to be flowing out of his body and drifting away in the cool, spring breeze. He thinks if he were to die right now, like this, he’d go willingly.

Gabriel presses his lips to Jack’s temple and breathes in his warm, aromatic scent.

His heart pounds in his chest and he is suddenly lightheaded. This is all happening far too quickly. He is so dangerously close to a fall from which he may never recover. He can feel the golden-haired angel in his arms pulling him toward the brink of something spectacular. He doesn’t do this. He doesn’t lose control of his emotions and fall for a man within days of meeting him.

He should never have gone into Jack’s apartment. He should never have asked him to meet. He should have ignored that aching tug in his chest that seemed to draw him toward those deep, sea-blue eyes, despite everything he told himself about how foolish and reckless it would be to open himself up to such a chaotic, ungrounded man. Particularly one so young and beautiful, who is certain to break his heart and leave him a wrecked and bitter shell.

This is the decision point. This moment. He knows it with absolute clarity. He can back away from the cliff’s edge, regain control of his life, and return to having everything the way it has always been. Or, he can let go and let the fall take him, knowing that what becomes of his heart after that, for better or worse, will be up to fate. He knows what he has to do, but he is afraid.

_A man without fear isn’t courageous, he’s a fool._

He takes a deep breath, draws his arms more tightly around the angel, and steps blindly off the edge.

“Jack,” Gabriel says softly. “Will you stay here with me tonight?”

 

 

 

 


	3. La Couronne et La Croix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING: THIS IS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT MATERIAL.***
> 
> LIKE, A LOT.
> 
> NO JOKE, IT'S PORN.
> 
>  
> 
> Note: This chapter also contains references by a character to violence and gunshot injuries sustained, as part of a personal account of their military background.

 

 

When Gabriel and Jack return from the balcony, the housekeeper has arrived and is clearing up the lunch things as she chats with Amélie in French. Jesse is nowhere to be seen, and Amélie explains that Genji has arrived and they are working on Jesse’s Japanese homework in the upstairs sitting room.

“Oh, my darling Gabi,” she says, in a sweet, wheedling tone. “Do you know what sounds positively divine?”

“The London Symphony Orchestra?” Gabriel replies innocently.

“Not that.”

“Uh…a baby’s first laugh?”

“Wrong again,” she says.

“Then I have no idea.”

“An espresso, you difficult man!” she laughs. “You are the only one who knows how to do it right. Please make one for me?”

“Of course,” Gabriel grins. “Jack, espresso?”

“I—yeah, sure,” Jack says. “I mean, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Gabriel goes into the kitchen and begins to rummage about for the required items. Jack takes a seat at the bar by Amélie.

“It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Amélie,” he says nervously. “I’m a big fan of your designs.”

“Thank you very much,” she says, with a coy smile. “But how is it that you have never modelled for me? I would love to put you in something…” she eyes him up and down “…tight and black.”

“I—um—tight and black?” Jack laughs uneasily. “Why that, specifically?”

“It would suit you,” she shrugs. “Blondes are so very pretty in black.”

“You like everyone in black,” Gabriel says, from his place before the espresso machine. He has put his glasses back on and Jack wishes he’d turn around.

“I do,” Amélie says to Jack. “It is very true. You have seen my designs for House Lacroix, but perhaps you are not so familiar with my…other line.”

“Your other line?” Jack shakes his head. “No, I had no idea you had another one.”

“Ah, not many people do. It is not a secret, but it is very new, and we have not publicized it yet. We are set to launch with a full ad campaign in the fall.”

“What kind of clothing?”

“High-fashion fetish wear,” she says matter-of-factly. “Well, bondage and fetish.”

Jack blinks. “Oh.”

“Oh is right,” Gabriel calls out. Jack has no idea how he heard this over the espresso machine, which is rumbling out a creamy, caramel-brown double-shot. “Mel, you should show him some things while we drink our coffee.”

“I can show you one right now,” she says, hopping up from her bar stool.

Jack watches as she shrugs off her pale-lilac jacket. The thing beneath it is indeed a corset, as Jack has thought, but it is not leather, it is heavy-gauge black latex. It is obviously well-made, steel-boned, and must have detachable cups, since there are silver rivets beneath the bust on both sides. She turns to show him the back. Rather than being laced, it is held closed by a row of steel buckles, which make it look incredibly sturdy, not to mention difficult to put on.

“Wow,” he says. “This is excellent craftsmanship. But…isn’t it difficult to wear it all day?”

“Oh, no,” she says, waving her little hand. “It is lined with silk, and corsets are very comfortable when you are used to them. I wear one nearly every day.”

Gabriel sets demitasse cups on the bar for them.

“Thank you Gabi,” Amélie says sweetly.

“Thank you—oh, damn,” Jack says. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I forgot to ask if you had decaf espresso.”

Gabriel smiles. “I made yours decaf.”

“You…did?” Jack says, mystified.

“Yeah. You only drank decaf at the shoot, and I’ve only seen you drink water since, so I assumed you were watching your caffeine and alcohol.”

“I am,” Jack laughs. “But I can’t believe you noticed.”

“Gabi notices everything,” Amélie says, arching a pristine eyebrow. “Do not be fooled by his spectacles. He sees very clearly.”

Jack sips his espresso and tries to comprehend what she could mean by this as he follows the two through the living room and down the hallway. At the end, there is a double door, which Gabriel opens for Amélie and Jack to pass through, then follows them inside and closes it. Jack stops short and stares open-mouthed at the contents of the long, spacious room.

On this end, there is a drafting desk with large sheets of paper clipped to it, bearing sketches and patterns. There are several different sewing machine stations, shelves loaded with bolts of red, white, purple, gold, silver, and black latex and leather, boxes of steel rivets, rings, and fasteners of all kinds, and long row of mannequins and dressmakers forms, displaying gorgeous corsets, chokers, waist cinchers, cat suits, and other costumes. His eye, however, is drawn immediately to what appears to be a jewelers table on the far end of the room, with several large, absolutely bizarre pieces made of stainless-steel displayed on a shelf above it. He can’t imagine what they are. They look like medieval torture devices.

“This is my work room,” Amélie says. “I personally design every piece for Crown and Cross.”

“Crown and Cross?” Jack asks distractedly.

“That is the name of the line,” she says, pointing to a little embroidered logo on one of the leather corsets.

Jack leans closer to inspect it. The logo consists of a beveled cross, over the top of which sits a rather cruel-looking spiked crown.

“Crown and Cross,” she says. “Reyes and Lacroix.”

Jack looks bewildered.

“Crown for Reyes, which means king,” Gabriel laughs, “and cross for Lacroix.”

Jack nods, though he doesn’t quite understand why Gabriel’s name is part of the brand.

“That’s really cool. These pieces are spectacular, Amélie. Just beautiful.”

“I am so pleased that you like them,” she smiles. “I am very proud of all our work at House Lacroix, but this is my first love.”

Jack follows her about to the each of mannequins and listens with absorbed interest as she explains the displayed items. He touches the exquisite materials, asks about the different fasteners and gauges of latex, and compliments each one sincerely. His favorite are a matched pair of ballerina costumes, one called Odette, in snowy white leather and one called Odile, in glossy black latex. Amélie is delighted that he chose these in particular, and she practically glows as she talks about them.

“So, um…what are those things?” Jack asks, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. “On the shelf up there.”

“Ah, yes,” Amélie says slyly. “You will have to speak to Gabi about those. They are the _Crown_ part of Crown and Cross. All his designs. I only helped to make them practical enough to be worn.”

Jack looks questioningly at Gabriel, who, to his utter astonishment, is visibly blushing, despite his dark complexion.

“I—I think we should…let’s—leave those for later, shall we?” he mumbles awkwardly.

Jack laughs aloud, seeing the usually stoic, perfectly-composed man so absolutely flustered.

“Gabriel, you’re blushing like me!” he exclaims gleefully. “Now I have to know. Come on!”

Gabriel clears his throat. “Those are…they’re, uh…”

“They are cock cages,” Amélie assists chirpily.

Jack’s blue eyes go wide. “What…what are…cock cages?”

“Male chastity devices for BDSM play and lifestyle,” Amélie says. “Gabi is very good at designing them. His work is beautiful.”

“How do they…work?” Jack wants to know.

“Gabi, may I show Jack one of your pieces?” Amélie asks.

Gabriel nods, but he crosses his arms and looks supremely uncomfortable. Jack notices this, and stops her.

“No, Amélie, it’s alright,” he says. “I wouldn’t look at someone’s private work while it’s in progress like this. But your designs are fabulous. Thank you for showing me.”

“Thank you for saying such kind things,” she says, smiling graciously. “I am absurdly proud of my work. Shall we go and chat in the living room?”

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

Gabriel follows them silently back out of the room and shuts the door behind them, but as they’re walking down the hall, he catches Jack’s hand and gives it a little squeeze. Jack smiles. He thinks he is beginning to understand a little more about Gabriel Reyes.

“So, Jack,” Amélie says, as they sit down. “Perhaps you will model for me one day, then?”

“I’d love to,” Jack smiles. “Just let me know when and where.”

Their talk drifts to the fashion business and comes around to Amélie’s transition from modeling to design, a topic in which Jack is very interested. After a while, Jesse comes in with Genji, an adorable Japanese boy about his age, whose hair is dyed a radioactive shade of green. He tells his parents they are going to get a boba tea at the café down the block. As they depart, Amélie rises and excuses herself to “have a long bath and lounge about with a novel” as she puts it.

“So, about the, um…cages,” Gabriel says, after she’s gone upstairs. “Sorry I acted so weird. I just didn’t want to freak you out. That stuff is pretty…advanced.”

“That’s ok,” Jack says. “I wasn’t freaked out. I mean, I don’t even know what they are, really.”

Gabriel smiles. “You’re so fucking sweet, Jack. It makes me feel kind of…old and jaded.”

“I like the way you are,” Jack says, scooting closer. “You know a lot of things I don’t know. I’d like to learn from you, if you’d be willing to teach me.”

“You don’t even know what you’re asking to learn,” Gabriel says evenly, keeping his eyes fixed on Jack’s face.

Jack leans close, so his lips almost brush against Gabriel’s ear. “You said you’d teach me how to be…told no.”

A palpable shudder passes through Gabriel’s body. Jack draws away to look into his handsome face. Behind the lenses of his black-framed glasses, his eyes are closed. His chest rises and falls erratically, and Jack can see the conscious effort he has to exert to steady his breathing before he speaks again.

“Jack, that is not something I take lightly. It is not a game to me,” he says, looking into Jack’s blue eyes with his keen, dark-brown ones. “I think you need to get to know me better, spend more time together as equals, before we talk about something like that.”

“But I don’t even know what we’re talking about!” Jack says, growing quickly exasperated. “What isn’t a game? The fetish stuff and the…saying ‘no’ thing? And what do you mean as equals? You’re talking around something with all this mysterious coded language and I wish you’d just explain it to me.”

“Come here, cielito,” Gabriel says, stretching out his arm. “You’re getting upset.”

Without thinking twice, Jack nestles himself into Gabriel’s body and rests his head in the crook of his shoulder.

“I’m not getting upset,” he pouts, draping an arm across Gabriel’s broad chest. “I want to _know_ things and you’re not _telling_ me them, so I’m—ok, yeah, I’m getting…a little upset. But that doesn’t mean you were right.”

Gabriel laughs. Jack can feel the low vibration of it in his own chest.

“I think it does mean I was right,” he says. “But you can pout about it if you want to.”

“Well, I don’t feel like pouting anymore,” Jack retorts. “You smell really good and I want to think about that now.”

Gabriel laughs again and squeezes Jack a little tighter. “Jack, when was the last time you had sex?”

“Like…a long time,” Jack says, glad that Gabriel can’t see him blushing. “Why, do I seem desperate?”

“Not at all,” Gabriel says. “We have to talk about these things before we have sex. So how long is a long time? Three months? Six months?”

“Two—” Jack breaks off and clears his throat. “Two years.”

He can feel Gabriel’s surprise without seeing his face, but it doesn’t show in his voice. “Were you safe?”

“Yes, and before you ask, I’m clean,” Jack says defensively. “I have to be tested for my insurance, so Ana makes me go get that stuff done. I had my last screening in January.”

“I don’t mean to offend you, Jack. I’m just being responsible. I’m clean as well, and I’ll show you my most recent test results. They were done a few weeks ago, six months after the last time I had sex with a partner.”

“That’s ok,” Jack mutters. “I believe you.”

“I would prefer you look at it, Jack. I don’t want to wear a condom with you, and I want you to feel safe.”

“You…don’t want to…wear a condom with me?” Jack says, feeling suddenly lightheaded.

“No. But I will, if you’d be more comfortable.”

Jack shakes his head slowly. “No, I don’t want you to. I’m…sorry. No one has ever talked to me like this before.”

Gabriel sighs.

Jack looks up into his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t get the feeling that you’ve been treated with the respect you deserve, Jack. That makes me angry.”

“At me?”

Gabriel smiles down at him and caresses his cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Of course not at you.” 

Jack imagines those intense, dark-brown eyes angry and looks away quickly. He doesn’t think Gabriel probably gets angry easily. When he does get angry, he probably has a good reason. And there will be no winning an argument with a man like him, who only argues when he is right. Jack shudders and incongruously, huddles his body closer to the man who has produced his feeling of apprehension.

The door opens and Jack hears Jesse and Genji clomping down the hall. Jesse is saying something loudly in halting Japanese and Genji is in fits of laughter. Jack thinks he should sit up, but Gabriel’s arm remains around him, so he doesn’t move. The two teenagers burst into the room, half-consumed beverages with fat, neon pink and green straws in their hands. They seem to take no particular notice of Gabriel and Jack’s state of physical contact.

“Hey, dad,” Jesse says. “Can I stay over at Genji’s tonight? He got that new game we was talkin’ about.”

“Is it ok with Genji’s dad?” Gabriel asks. His arm is still around Jack.

“Yeah, but he says you gotta call him so he knows we got your permission.”

“Ok, I’ll call him in a minute,” Gabriel says. “Make sure you bring your toothbrush. And clean clothes.”

Jesse grins impishly as he turns to go. “You remember to bring your toothbrush, Jack?”

“Alright, pendejo,” Gabriel laughs. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

Genji casts a curious glance back at Jack and Gabriel as the boys traipse up the stairs to collect Jesse’s things. Jack listens to Gabriel’s voice vibrating through his chest as he speaks to Genji’s father on the phone in Japanese. He has no idea what’s been said, but apparently the outcome was positive.

When the boys come back down Gabriel calls out, “Have a good time! Call me when you get there!”

“Ok,” Jesse calls back. “Love you, pa! Bye Jack!”

“Love you too!” Gabe replies.

“Bye Jesse!” Jack adds.

The front door bangs shut behind the boys and Gabriel’s warm, soft mouth covers Jack’s, drawing him in, caressing his tongue, taking his breath away. Jack is determined not to let the moment slip away. He pushes his weight into the kiss and swings his leg over, straddling Gabriel’s lap. Gabriel’s head falls back against the sofa cushions as he allows Jack to hold him down and kiss him with savage intensity. Jack feels strong hands on his hips, gripping with almost bruising force.

“Jack, wait” Gabriel pants, between kisses. “Wait, slow down.”

Jack takes Gabriel’s bottom lip between his top teeth and bottom lip, tugging gently on it as he pulls slowly away. He gazes fiercely into his eyes, pupils blown wide and black in his blue irises, like a wildcat on the hunt.

“Jack,” Gabriel says hoarsely, as Jack shifts his hips, putting pressure on his rapidly thickening cock. “We have to…talk about things.”

“No more talking,” Jack purrs, grazing his teeth along Gabriel’s throat. “I want you. I want you now.”

Gabriel lays his hands on Jack’s, then slides them around his wrists. He pulls Jack’s arms down slowly, then pins them behind him, against the small of his back. Not forcefully, just firmly enough to hold them in place. If Jack wanted to do so, he could free himself easily. But he does not resist or even tug against Gabriel’s grip.

“Good boy,” Gabriel murmurs. “You don’t even need to be restrained. I’m going to let go of your hands. Keep them there, while I talk to you.”

Jack’s head spins with exhilaration. He’s never been told what to do like this before. He _wants_ to do what Gabriel says. Wants to be commanded. Gabriel releases his wrists, and Jack laces his fingers together to keep his hands behind his back. He sits still, back slightly arched, panting and wet-lipped. Watching Gabriel. Waiting.

“Tell me what your hard limits are,” Gabriel says softly, stroking Jack’s silky, pale-blonde hair.

“I don’t know,” Jack says honestly. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Your hard limits are things that are always no, regardless of the scenario. They will likely change, but for now, I mean what do you dislike—what do you prefer not to do or have done to you?”

“I…don’t like to be hurt, I guess. I’m not sure.”

“That’s a good start,” Gabriel laughs. “What about language. Any talk that upsets you or you find distasteful?”

“I don’t like daddy talk. Oh, and I don’t like being called sissy or anything that suggests that I’m, like…female. Does that—is that ok?”

“Of course it’s ok. There are no wrong answers, Jack. I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel bad or tarnishes the experience for you. I can’t enjoy being with you if you don’t feel comfortable and safe.”

“When I said I don’t like to be hurt, I mean like, _bad_ hurt,” Jack says, emboldened by the encouragement. “I don’t mind biting and that kind of thing.”

“I figured that was the case. You don’t seem like the type to shy from a little overstimulation.”

“And there’s—there’s one more thing,” Jack says, watching Gabriel’s face apprehensively. “I don’t…I don’t like having my dick touched. Like, at all.”

Gabriel doesn’t seem upset or shocked. Relief washes over Jack. He had seriously feared that this would be a sticking point, but Gabriel doesn’t even blink. He simply accepts it and moves on.

“Are you able to come without manual stimulation?”

Jack blushes and lowers his eyes, but he nods.

“Excellent,” Gabriel says. “Because I do want to make you come. More than once, if you can handle it.”

Jack blushes harder. His arms are on fire and they’re beginning to shake. He adjusts his hands and keeps them clasped doggedly behind him.

Gabriel sees this and smiles. “You can relax your arms now.”

Jack lets his hands drop heavily to his sides, laughing with relief. Gabriel reaches up and rubs his upper arms vigorously.

“That was impressive,” he says. “Stress positions require a lot of determination.”

“I just wanted to…do what you said,” Jack says bashfully, glowing under the praise.

Gabriel presses a soft kiss to his pouting lips. “Come on,” he says, patting Jack’s thigh. “Up.”

Jack climbs out of Gabriel’s lap and stands up. With Gabriel barefoot and Jack in his boots, they are exactly the same height. This strikes Jack as absurdly funny. Gabriel _feels_ so much taller than him. He laughs and leans forward to give him another kiss.

“What’s so funny,” Gabriel grins. “Don’t like short guys?”

“How tall are you?”

“Six-foot-two.”

“Well, I’m six-foot-one, so you’re taller than me. It’s just these boots.”

“Yeah, but I’ll only be getting shorter from here on out, so you may have the advantage over me one day. You thirsty?”

Jack nods. Gabriel goes to the kitchen and comes back with a bottle of water in one hand, and his phone in the other.

“Here you go,” he says, handing the water to Jack. “Sip that, don’t guzzle it. Jesse should have let me know he made it to the Shimadas’ place by now. I’m going to go out on the balcony and call him. The restroom is through there if you need it. I’ll be right back.”

Jack says ok. As soon as Gabriel walks out the door, he goes to take advantage of the restroom offer. He hadn’t thought of it, but he’s grateful for the opportunity. He would’ve been mortified if he’d had to stop things and ask to go take a piss. When he’s done and washed his hands, he returns to find Gabriel sitting on the sofa, typing on his phone.

Jack frowns. “How’s Jesse? Everything ok?”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Those two little fucks got to Genji’s and jumped right into their video game, and he forgot to call me. I’m texting your manager back right now. She just happened to want to ask about the photo shoot we talked about.”

“Oh—ha, sorry,” Jack says, inwardly plotting his best friend’s untimely demise. “She’s really…thorough.”

“Nah, don’t be sorry,” Gabriel smiles. “I like how she’s always looking out for you. She seems like a really good friend.”

“She is,” Jack says. “The best. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Hang onto her, then. Friends like that are one in a million.”

“I know it,” Jack says, smiling affectionately. He still has to kill her for embarrassing him while he’s on a date, but he loves her nonetheless.

“I told her we’re hammering out the details now,” Gabriel says, getting up from the couch. “Come upstairs with me. I want to undress you.”

His simple, forthright way of speaking still makes Jack’s heart skip a beat, though he thinks he should be getting used to it by now. Maybe you never get used to such direct, plain-spoken honesty. Jack hopes he won’t get used to it. These butterflies feel so good and different. As he follows the older man up the white-carpeted stairs, he realizes he’s never felt this way about the prospect of having sex with someone. Exhilarated and excited. Full of nervous anticipation, but not fear or shame.

He almost wishes he hadn’t told Gabriel about not liking to be touched that way. It’s true, but he thinks it’s possible that he might learn to like it, if Gabriel did it. The thought of Gabriel’s strong hands and beautiful mouth caressing his cock makes him instantly hard. This is literally the opposite reaction he’s ever had to this idea, and he has to stop and take a breath. He’s just reached the top of the staircase, and Gabriel turns and laughs.

“You’re not worn out from climbing one flight of stairs, are you? That wouldn’t bode well for our afternoon.”

“No, you ass,” Jack says, laughing too. “I just got a little lightheaded.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “The good kind?”

“Yeah, the good kind.”

At the top of the stairs, there is a small, loft-style sitting room with leather couches and dark-wood bookshelves. The hallway continues down and branches off to the left and right, terminating in a large window at each end. There seem to be a vast number of doors.

“How many rooms do you have?” Jack asks, following Gabriel down the hall to the left.

“Six bedrooms and five bathrooms. I know, it’s idiotic, but we entertain enough out-of-town company to justify it. There were seven bedrooms and four baths, but I was not a big fan of sharing a hallway bathroom with guests and Jesse’s friends. We had the place remodeled a few years ago, so I could have a master-suite bedroom of my own. Mine is on this end, and Mel’s is down there on the other end.”

“Well, at least you know what you want.”

“And how to get it,” Gabriel grins, as he opens the door to his bedroom.

“Holy shit!” Jack exclaims, looking about him wide-eyed. “Your bedroom is as big as my apartment!”

“Well, not quite,” Gabriel says self-consciously. “At least…I don’t think it is.”

“It might be. Does your penthouse take up an entire floor of the building?”

“Of course not! It takes up one-half of two floors of the building.”

Gabriel’s enormous bedroom is positioned at the corner of the building, so it has the ubiquitous floor-to-ceiling windows along two entire walls. The space is sparsely, but very tastefully decorated. The solid walls are a muted sand color and the hardwood floors are a similar color, with several plush, white, natural sheepskin rugs placed about in strategic locations.

One of these rugs sits beneath the bed, which is covered in black linens with grey accent pillows and appears to be suspended above the ground by attaching to the wall somehow. The other rug is between two grey easy chairs beside the fireplace, which is mantled by three slabs of roughhewn stone. Jack thinks it looks rather like a trilithon from Stonehenge.

Gabriel’s en-suite bathroom is only separated from the room by a little archway, and the glass-walled shower stall, long counter with sinks and mirrors, and massive Jacuzzi bathtub are clearly visible. Reflected in the mirror, jack can see the separate door that leads to the toilet and bidet. He glances about for the closet. At first none is visible, but then his trained eye catches a large black panel in the wall opposite the windows, and he recognizes it as a double pocket-doored walk-in.

“Wow,” he says at last, as he presses his forehead against one of the windows to look down at the street below. “Photographers must get paid better than I—oh, fuck.” He turns quickly and winces. “I’m so sorry. That was really rude.”

Gabriel shrugs. “I’m not offended. I do pretty well, but most of the money that paid for this place wasn’t mine. Mel’s got European old-money. The kind that produces enough interest to make you rich just on that.”

“What is she, like, nobility or something?” Jack laughs.

“Yeah, she is,” Gabriel says. “She’s technically the Lady Amélie Lacroix, Viscountess Guillard, if you want to get honorific about it.”

Jack gapes. “Guillard, like _the_ Guillards? Of the Chateau Guillard where all that wine comes from?”

“Yep. Those Guillards,” Gabriel says casually, as if being married into the French aristocracy is something everyone does. “Come here. I want to undress you now.”

Jack comes there and lifts his arms for Gabriel to pull off his sweater. “How did you meet a French noblewoman?”

“I was doing a tour overseas—sit, I want to take off your boots—I was doing a tour overseas, and Olivia was visiting me with my older sister. I got us espresso at this café, and when I came outside, the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen was chatting with my sister and commenting on how lovely Olivia was.”

Gabriel pulls off Jack’s boots and sets them beside the chair, over which he has hung his sweater.

“Of course, my sister did all the talking, so pretty soon this woman knew that I was a single father, that I knew how to cook and dance, and even do a passable manicure, and that I was—as she put it—heroically risking my life by serving in the military. Up.”

Jack stands up and Gabriel continues as he pulls off his white undershirt.

“So, she invited us to a show, which I found out when we arrived was a fashion show, and that she was one of the models. She was kind to Olivia and my sister adored her, and we hit it off. She asked me out for drinks and I said yes. Then we went out again. And then it just…grew from there.”

Gabriel is unbuttoning Jack’s fly now and helping him out of his jeans, which come off rather awkwardly, due to their snug fit.

“It was always more of a mutual respect and friendship than anything, but I told myself those were the things I was supposed to feel for a prospective partner, and I knew she’d be a good mother to Olivia, so I asked her to marry me.”

He steps back and draws his eyes slowly up and down Jack’s tall, muscular, athletically proportioned body. He slides his thumb along the v-shaped line of his hip, where it disappears beneath his tight black briefs.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

Jack slouches his shoulders and slings his hip to the side. “Ugh, I know. It’s so hard being this sexy.”

Gabriel laughs and pulls him into a deep, longing kiss, running his palms over Jack’s strong, well-defined back and shoulders. Jack works his hands up underneath Gabriel’s tight, grey t-shirt.

“Ooh, impressive,” he says, stroking the hard ridges of Gabriel’s abdomen. “You’re all muscle, old man.”

“I’ve stayed in tolerably good shape,” Gabriel says modestly. “But I have to warn you, I have a few scars. I’m not ashamed of them or anything, so feel free to touch them, if you want.”

Jack pulls Gabriel’s shirt off over his head and drops it on the floor. A few scars. Christ. The man is a map of scars, cut across and punctured into his burnished, dusky-brown skin. His solid, heavy, utilitarian muscles look like they were earned by toil and labor, rather than obtained in a gym for the sake of vanity. Jack finds himself suddenly both more intimidated by, and more intensely attracted to this man, whose body bears the marks of an actual warrior.

“ _You_ are the one who’s beautiful, Gabriel,” he says, blue eyes wide and luminous. “I—your…your body is a story.”

Gabriel laughs aloud. “You’re right. My scars do tell a story, don’t they. Some of these chapters, though…” his hand passes over a spider-web mass of scars on his left side, from what must have been a severe burn “…I’d rather forget.”

Jack traces a fingertip along a deep, ragged slash that runs from Gabriel’s right armpit, down diagonally across his broad, hard chest, and terminates beneath his left pectoral muscle.

“What’s this one from?”

“Concertina wire. I got shot in the leg and I was trying to haul myself over a fence before they started aiming for things I’m more attached to. Didn’t have time to cut the wire or wrap my jacket around it, so I just pushed through and let myself get shredded.” He laughs. “It was so bad the medics didn’t notice the leg wound at first.”

Jack stands there blinking dumbly at him. He has never heard a man laugh about something like this. He has never even heard a man _talk_ about something like this.

“Oh, right. It probably doesn’t sound very funny to you,” Gabriel says, observing the stunned look on Jack’s face. “Then I definitely won’t tell you about the time I was dragging a wounded man out of a line of enemy fire and I got shot up so bad, he ended up having to drag me.”

On sudden impulse, Jack leans forward and presses his lips tenderly to the scar across Gabriel’s chest. Gabriel’s breath hitches and he shivers.

“Tell me,” Jack breathes, kissing along the entire length of the scar. “Tell me about them. I want to know the story of every scar on your body.”

Jack hastily unfastens Gabriel’s black slacks and they hit the floor. Then he takes him by his narrow waist and makes him sit on the edge of one of the grey easy chairs. He kneels before him and kisses another scar, lower on his stomach.

“This one, tell me its story.”

Gunshot from that incident with the wounded man.

“This one.”

Frag grenade. Didn’t get to cover in time.

“And this one.”

Stabbed by a captive combatant. Had a boot knife the guard didn’t find.

“And these.”

Gabriel’s handsome features constrict with pain.

“Su—suicide bomber,” he says hoarsely. “Just, ah—a teenage kid. Strapped to the skin with dynamite. Ran up to us when we were handing out nutrition bars, and…”

He removes his glasses and turns to set them on the coffee table, but Jack has already seen the lenses begin to mist. There are no tears on Gabriel’s face when he turns back, but his eyes are glassy and reddish at the rims. Jack throws his arms around Gabriel and pulls him down into a crushing embrace. Gabriel doesn’t weep, but he allows himself to be supported in Jack’s arms, buries his face Jack’s warm, smooth, softly-scented shoulder and takes deep, shuddering breaths.

Jack stands there on his knees, holding the large, powerful man in his arms. He kisses his temple and forehead, carding his fingers through his short, dark hair. When the spell has seemed to pass, Gabriel takes Jack’s face in his hands and rests his forehead against Jack’s. Jack lays his hands on Gabriel’s cheeks, mirroring the position. They sit that way, eyes closed, breathing each other’s breath for a long moment.

“Thank you,” Gabriel says. “Thank you, Jack.”

Jack takes his hand and begins to lead him toward his bed. Gabriel lifts him off his feet and carries him the rest of the way, and they fall into bed, kissing and caressing each other’s bodies, mouths pressed together desperately, as if this is the last day on earth and they are the last two men. Jack slides his hands down and tugs impatiently at the waistband of Gabriel’s grey briefs.

“Wait, cariño,” Gabriel laughs softly. “Slow down. We have all the time in the world.”

“I want you, Gabriel,” Jack pants, through wet, kiss-bruised lips. “I want you like…I’ve never wanted anyone before. Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Please…f—fuck me,” Jack manages to stammer, flushing beet red.

“I will,” Gabriel’s low voice thrums in jack’s ear. “But not yet.”

Jack makes an involuntary noise of frustration as Gabriel draws away, but his big, warm hand remains on Jack’s stomach. Jack finds the gesture oddly reassuring, as if Gabriel is aware that he needs constant contact right now, lest the sudden change in physical stimuli trigger his anxiety.

Gabriel takes something from a drawer beside the bed and puts it in Jack’s hand. It’s a little black bottle of lubricant. Jack tries to understand the words on the label, but Gabriel’s hot mouth and rough facial hair are pressing into the skin on his chest, moving gradually lower. He groans as Gabriel stops to suck a bruise into his taut, flat abdomen.

“Jack, may I take off your underwear?” 

Jack lifts his head and nods. Gabriel peels them off and tosses them away. Jack’s cock is already rock-hard and weeping. He thinks ruefully that it’s probably straining itself to the dizzy heights of three inches. Gabriel’s openly adoring, eager expression immediately chastises him for his self abuse. He gazes at it for a moment, then exhales sharply and drops his forehead onto Jack’s hip, gripping his thighs with both hands.

He kisses Jack’s stomach, the curve of his hipbone, pushes his legs apart, but he never trespasses on the verbal boundary Jack has given him. Jack gasps and gives a little cry as Gabriel’s teeth sink into the sensitive skin between his balls and inner thigh, searing his hot breath into Jack’s bloodstream. By the time Gabriel takes the bottle from him and begins to unscrew the cap, Jack’s cheeks are flushed rosy pink and he is physically trembling with desire.

“You’re not going to last long like this,” Gabriel grins. “I want to make you come once before I fuck you.”

“Yeah—yes,” Jack says, trying not to squirm too much. He is in absolute agony to have Gabriel inside him. “Please. Please.”

Gabriel smiles, that gorgeous, self-assured smile as he kneels between Jack’s legs. He lifts Jack’s knee over his shoulder and gently spreads his ass apart with his thumbs.

“Perfect,” he purrs, as he slicks his fingers with lube. “Such a perfect, pretty little hole. It’s been a long time, too. You’re probably so tight for me. Say stop if anything doesn’t feel good, ok?”

Jack nods and grips the black comforter tightly with both hands. He gives a start as Gabriel’s finger glides across his exposed asshole.

“Sh, it’s ok,” Gabriel says, stroking his thigh soothingly. “You’re so sensitive, baby.”

“Ha…ah! I—I’m sorry—” Jack gasps. Gabriel is drawing slow, tantalizing circles around the rim.

“I like it,” Gabriel says. “Don’t apologize.”

He begins to slide a finger inside. Jack’s head lolls back onto the mattress as he works it carefully in and out, watching his blonde angel’s face vigilantly for his responses. Two. Jack’s lips part in a low, soft moan. His eyelashes flutter rapidly. Three. Jack clenches his teeth.

“Too much?” Gabriel asks.

“No—no,” Jack pants. “Don’t stop, please.”

Gabriel hooks his fingers, presses, and finds the spot. Jack’s moan shatters into a broken cry. His neck and chest are flushed pink and he’s beginning to perspire. Gabriel keeps going, sliding his fingers in and out in a slow, steady rhythm. Jack’s stomach muscles contract and he begins to shake all over. Gabriel increases the tempo a fraction of a beat.

“Gabriel…ffffuck…!” Jack groans. “I’m—I’m so clo—ohhhhh fuck!”

Jack’s cock throbs and spasms violently in its curly, golden nest of pubic hair, spurting thick, white streaks up his stomach as he comes. Gabriel keeps his fingers inside him, feeling Jack’s muscles contract and squeeze on them, letting him ride out his orgasm. When Jack’s spasms subside, Gabriel gently removes his fingers. Jack’s big, glistening blue eyes flicker open and he looks dreamily up at the handsome, scarred man who has just fucked him silly with one hand. He laughs.

Gabriel smiles. “What’s so funny, mi sol?”

“You made me come all over myself and you don’t even have your underwear off yet.”

“I don’t have to take them off. It’s ok if you just want to—”

“Not a chance,” Jack cuts him off, snapping to alertness. “I want you inside me right the fuck now.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “You sure about that, baby?”

Jack pushes himself up so they’re eye to eye. “I want to come on your cock so hard I see through time. You better fuck me like you mean it.”

Gabriel flashes a fierce, predatory grin that shows his white teeth. “Lie down and put your hands behind your head. If you move them, I’ll stop.”

Jack obeys eagerly, though with some inward trembling at the challenge he’s just offered to this war-hardened human weapon. Gabriel gets up to remove his grey briefs. His rigid cock springs free as he pulls them down and Jack gives an audible gasp. It’s not the length of the thing, which is likely only a little above average, but the girth. It’s thick and heavy, and so hard that the veins stand out on the shaft. It’s the same gorgeous, dusky brown as the rest of Gabriel’s skin, but for the ruddiness at the swollen head. A clear drop of pre-ejaculate glistens on the slit.

The idea of tasting it makes Jack’s mouth water. He has to fight back an impulse to sit up and take it in his mouth. Swallow it till it chokes him. Till his face is buried in that thick, curly, black hair. His own wet, spent member twitches in response, swelling to life again at the sight of Gabriel’s beautiful cock. Gabriel takes it in his hand and strokes himself idly, watching Jack watch him. Seeing the desire in his deep sea-blue eyes grow and bloom into desperation.

He laughs, low and deep. “You want my cock, baby?”

“Yes,” Jack almost whines. “Yes, please.”

“You want me to fuck you in your ass, cariño?”

“Fuck—fuck me anywhere. Just give it to me.”

“What if I want to use that pretty mouth first?”

Jack opens his mouth wide and stares defiantly up at Gabriel. He sees the man’s scarred, bronzed chest rise and fall rapidly as his breath quickens. He’s almost sure his pupils dilate, though it’s hard to tell in Gabriel’s dark-brown eyes. Gabriel straddles his chest with his thick, muscular thighs, resting his knees right at Jack’s armpits. He cups his chin in one hand and massages a little circle on his bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. Jack sticks his tongue out to lick it, try to get it into his mouth, but Gabriel shakes his head.

Jack withdraws his tongue and keeps admirably still as Gabriel taps his bottom lip with the head of his cock. He feels the pre-ejaculate wetting his lip. He wants to taste it so badly, but he resists, staring steadily up into Gabriel’s eyes. Gabriel nods. Jack’s pink tongue slides out and laps eagerly at the head, making Gabriel’s breath hiss through his teeth. After a brief moment, he pulls it away.

“That’s enough for now. You can swallow my come another time. I want to be inside you.”

He picks up the lube again and slicks up his cock, deliberately drizzling some onto Jack’s chest. Jack shivers, but he keeps his hands behind his head and waits. Gabriel moves down and positions himself on his knees between Jack’s legs. He hooks them both over his shoulders and scoots closer, lifting Jack’s ass and spreading him wider.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says. “I’ll go slow, and if it’s too much, tell me, ok?”

Jack nods mutely.

Gabriel spreads him again. Jack quivers as the warm, slippery head touches his tender, well-lubed hole. Gabriel still has to be patient, pushing slowly inside, pausing to let Jack breathe through the burn as his cock stretches the resistant ring of muscle.

“Your ffffuck—” Jack pants, through clenched teeth. “Your cock—feels so good.”

He is flushed pink all down his neck and chest from the exertion of receiving it. Gabriel feels himself reach the extremity at last, bottoming out just as his pubic bone makes contact with Jack’s perineum. Perfect. He fits perfectly inside him. 

“Fuck, baby,” he grunts. “You’re still so tight. After I fucked you with three fingers.”

The tense, velvety heat squeezes deliciously on his achingly rigid cock. He takes a breath to center himself, then begins to thrust slow and deep. He can’t lose control. He needs to make Jack come again. He needs to feel it. To see it. To make the angel moan and plead for him. He’d like to make Jack crawl to him, beg to have his cage unlocked—stop—that’s going to make him come too quickly.

Jack is already driving him so close to the edge. Pushing his hips up to meet the thrusts, trying to get more of it inside him. Gabriel increases his rhythm, leans forward on Jack’s thighs, driving himself as deep as he can go. Jack is hanging on. Taking it. Wanting it. He pulls almost all the way out, adjusts his angle slightly, and snaps his hips forward sharply. Jack’s spine arches and he gives a strangled cry.

“Jack, are you ok?” Gabriel asks, seeing what looks like tears on the younger man’s face.

“Huh? Y—yeah,” Jack stammers, blinking up at him. They _are_ tears. “It…feels so—unnngh! Fuck! Please…so good…keep doing it…please.”

Jack’s speech is so slurred and thick with euphoria, that Gabriel can barely understand him, but he gets the gist. He maintains his angle and beats steadily against Jack’s prostate. Jack moans in his throat, a more desperate, animal sound with each impact. Gabriel has never been with anyone so vocal. It’s intoxicating. He wants to make Jack scream.

He thrusts harder. Faster. Drinking in the image of his captive angel, wrecked and writhing on his cock, tears streaming down his temples, blonde hair matted in the perspiration on his forehead, biting his bottom lip, whining, groaning, crying out with each thrust. Jack begins to shake. Clamp down on him. The round, rosy head of his perfect little cock is leaking all over, leaving glistening beads clinging to his curly blonde pubic hair.

“Gabriel, Gabriel… _fuck_!” he chokes out. “I’m—gonna come—”

“Sí venga, cariño,” Gabriel growls, momentarily losing his command of English. “Quiero que te—motherfucker—come, Jack, come for me.”

Jack’s muscles go rigid. His hands fly out instinctively, grasping at Gabriel’s chest and digging in with his fingernails as his orgasm short-circuits his brain. His body shakes and seizes. The intensity of his climax drags Gabriel over the edge with him. He comes, pumping into Jack’s sucking, spasming asshole, spurting a stream of warm, viscous fluid deep inside him.

His eyes fall closed. He shudders through the shockwaves until his body stops quaking, then he releases Jack’s legs and collapses onto his overheated, come and sweat-drenched chest.

Jack’s heart is thumping like a war-drum. He’s dizzy and gasping for air and too fucked out to give a damn that Gabriel saw him crying. He doesn’t know why he cried anyway. Gabriel didn’t hurt him. The sex was overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It…touched something profound and visceral inside him. Something he has no name for.

Gabriel’s hot, heavy hand comes up and wipes his tears away. His low, sonorous voice is murmuring soothing words in Spanish. Jack has no idea what they mean but they sound so sweet and _good_ , that he almost starts crying again. The crying feeling swells like a bubble in his chest and bursts into raw, genuine laughter. Gabriel laughs too. It’s soft and pure and lovely in Jack’s ears.

“So much for waiting,” he says, rolling heavily onto his back. His voice is hoarse and weary, and he sounds as fucked out as Jack feels. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Two dates is long enough,” Jack says. “Get with the times, old man.”

He pulls himself onto Gabriel’s chest and rests his chin on his hand, gazing at him with his wide, bright blue eyes. Gabriel reaches out and strokes his disheveled golden hair.

“What do you mean, two dates? That first one was a business lunch.”

“Yeah, a business lunch where we talked about zero business and I ended up naked and kissing you at the end.”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t an exceptionally _good_ business lunch.”

“You never told me about the photo shoot, you know. I think you were just trying to get me in bed.”

“No you don’t.”

“No, I don’t,” Jack laughs. “I do think I figured out what the job is on my own, though.”

“Did you?”

“Yep.”

“Well? What do you think it is?”

Jack grins. “Crown and Cross, obviously.”

 

 


	4. Tomber Amoureux

“What would you think about that?” Gabriel asks. “Modeling for Crown and Cross.”

“I don’t know,” Jack says, playing idly with the curly black hairs on Gabriel’s chest. “Would that mean I’d be working for you?”

“Well, no,” Gabriel says. “I’d be photographing you, but we’d both be working for Mel. Crown and Cross belongs to her.”

Jack lifts his head to look up at him. “You’re not an owner? But your name is part of the brand.”

“The concept was something she and I toyed around with for a long time,” Gabriel explains. “She included me in the name because she considers me to have co-developed it with her. And I did design some pieces for the collection.”

“Ooh, right!” Jack says eagerly. “The cock rings.”

“ _Cages_ , Jack,” Gabriel laughs. “There’s a big difference.”

“Well, lucky for me, I can make you explain the difference to me.”

“Oh, you can, can you?”

“Yep,” Jack chirps. He straddles Gabriel’s lap and pins his arms above his head. “I’ve got you captive, now. You have to do what I say.”

“Is that right?” Gabriel says. He makes a play of straining against Jack’s hold on his wrists.

Jack pushes them down harder and grins impishly. A little spark of black fire kindles in Gabriel’s eyes. Jack feels his cock swelling, pressing up against his own. He rocks his hips a little and Gabriel hums in his throat.

“Come on,” Jack wheedles. “Tell me about your cock cages. It’s only fair, now that you’ve had your cock in me.”

“Maybe I want to put it in you again, instead,” Gabriel murmurs. “Fuck your asshole while it’s still dripping wet with my come.”

“Um, I’m not sure if you’re aware of the situation, Mr. Reyes, but I’ve got the upper hand, here.”

Gabriel laughs again. “You’re joking, but there’s a lot more truth to that than you think. You do have the upper hand, Jack.”

“Well, not really though,” Jack grins. “I know I’m only holding you down because you’re letting me. You’re a lot stronger than me.”

“Power isn’t all about physical strength.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that what you can gain from physically overpowering another person is essentially valueless, unless what you want is to prove your physical strength. In which case you’re either a professional fighter, or just an asshole. It’s the same with mental coercion and manipulation. Sure, you can trick or bribe or threaten someone into doing what you want, but that’s still false power. Remove the threat, expose the truth—and poof—your control over them evaporates. But, when another human being chooses to give you power by an exercise of free will, it actually has value. It’s real. Real power can never be taken, only given.”

“And you think I have power?” Jack asks uneasily. “Over you?”

Gabriel smiles that gorgeous smile. “Absolutely.”

Jack releases Gabriel’s hands and moves off his lap to sit beside him. “But why? How?”

“I don’t sleep with men I want to work with,” Gabriel says. “I don’t have sex with men I’ve only just met, and I certainly don’t invite dates into my home. But since I met you, I’ve chosen to break just about every rule I have about sexual interactions.”

“Oh, I—I didn’t know,” Jack stammers, turning bright red. “I didn’t mean to push you—”

“No, Jack, I’m not blaming you,” Gabriel laughs. “I’m telling you that I _chose_ to break my rules. Because I wanted to. Because I wanted you more than I wanted to be in control of the situation. My rules don’t seem to matter all that much compared to this. To being here with you, this way.”

Jack’s stomach twirls and flutters as he looks into those deep dark-brown eyes. This feels like something. Something more than sexual chemistry and mutual desire. It feels like—he drops his eyes quickly, afraid Gabriel will read too plainly what must be written there. It feels like falling in love. The idea terrifies him nearly out of his senses. He fights with an instant urge to flee. To make some excuse and just escape. Gabriel would think he had lost his mind. He gazes down at his hands in silence until Gabriel asks him what’s wrong.

Jack puts on a sunny smile. “Sorry, I get lost in my head sometimes. Ana says it’s probably just as messy in there as my apartment.”

“You’re sure you’re ok?” Gabriel says, searching his face closely. “I didn’t do anything to upset you, did I?”

“Not at all,” Jack says. “I’m really ok.”

Gabriel smiles, but it’s less easy. Less soft and bright than before. He kisses Jack’s forehead and pushes himself up from the bed, languidly stretching his long, muscular limbs. Then he turns toward him again and holds out his hand.

“Come on, cariño,” he says. “Let’s have a shower.”

The steaming water in Gabriel's shower turns Jack’s sensitive skin bright pink. Jack insists it’s not too hot, but Gabriel lowers the temperature anyway. Jack closes his eyes dutifully to have his hair shampooed and rinsed and makes his best effort not to giggle while Gabriel washes his body. When they're clean and refreshed, they towel each other off and Gabriel wraps Jack up in a big, plushy, black bathrobe.

“It’s early,” he says. “Do you want to get dressed and take a walk?”

Jack smiles. “Sure.”

Gabriel sees him picking his underwear up from the floor and raises an eyebrow. “Jack, you’re not going to put those back on, are you?”

“Well…I’m not now. But what will I do for undies?”

“Undies?” Gabriel repeats dubiously. “You fuckin’ kids these days. Let me get you a pair of mine.”

“I don’t think yours are going to fit me very well,” Jack says, casting a doubtful eye on Gabriel’s solidly built thighs and round, muscular ass.

Gabriel smirks over his shoulder. “You saying I have a big ass?”

“I mean…it’s not _small_ ,” Jack says. “It’s gorgeous and I adore it, but let’s face it, we are not the same body type.”

“That’s ok,” Gabriel says slyly. “I’ll just grab you a pair of Jesse’s.”

“Ooh, you’re a real comedian!” Jack retorts, tossing a pillow at him.

Gabriel catches the pillow and tosses it back. “Just wait till I start telling dad jokes.”

He touches a button on the wall and the black double-doors to the walk-in closet slide open. Inside, Jack can see rows of neatly-hung garments, shoes of all different kinds on shoe racks, and a tie-sorter full of richly-colored silk ties. A full-length mirror stands on one side of the closet, opposite a mahogany dresser on the other side. Jack flops onto the bed and watches as Gabriel opens a drawer and begins to rummage about in the dresser.

“Here, try these.” He says, holding out a pair of black low-rise briefs.

Jack gets up and pulls them on. To his surprise, they fit him tolerably well, and are actually a little tight.

“You wore these?” he asks, turning to examine his rearview in the mirror. “How did you even get them on?”

“Alright, alright,” Gabriel grumbles. “You’re gonna give me body issues. Get dressed, you little heathen.”

Jack is pulling on his sweater when Gabriel comes out of the walk-in wearing a pair of tight, black jeans and a white undershirt that displays his chiseled physique beautifully. Jack ogles him openly as he pulls on his black sweater.

He smiles self-consciously. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” Jack sighs. “You’re so fucking hot. How is it that you’re single?”

“Well, the two kids thing doesn’t go over well with most gay men,” Gabriel grins. “Plus, I’m really picky about who sees me in my undies.”

“So you’ve been saving yourself for the guy who literally everyone has seen in his?”

“Well, no. But I have to admit, I had a little crush on you before we met.”

“On me?” Jack says, genuinely surprised. He can’t imagine Gabriel Reyes having a _crush_ on anyone, let alone himself.

“It wasn’t creepy or anything,” Gabriel says, sitting down to pull on his socks. “I’d just noticed you in some photos and thought you were interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Yeah. I told you that before. I could tell there was something different about you.”

“I guess I just…assumed you were being complimentary.”

“Come on, Jack. You know you’re beautiful. And you are interesting, so I was right.”

“I’m really not, Gabriel,” Jack laughs. “It’s nice of you to say, but I am so boring. You have no idea.”

Gabriel stands up and puts his hands on Jack’s shoulders. “You are not boring. Now let’s go take a walk and I’ll tell you about cock cages.”

“Hmmmm. I don’t know. What if I can’t resist the urge to make out with you in public?”

“No PDA unless you want me to tell the paparazzi that you’re my husband.”

Jack flushes crimson and sputters some incoherent half-protest as Gabriel leads him out the door. Downstairs, they find Amélie, who has changed into a stunning red evening dress and is putting her coat on.

“Hello, beautiful boys,” she says, grinning mischievously. “You have been…taking a nap?”

Jack tries to melt into the floor and Gabriel laughs.

“You look lovely,” he says, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Where are you off to?”

“I have a date. We are going to dinner and then the ballet.”

“Sounds wonderful. Tell Gérard I said hello, alright?”

“Of course,” she smiles. “Goodbye Jackie! I hope we will see each other again soon!”

“Bye, Amélie,” Jack says. After the door has shut behind her, he turns to Gabriel. “Who’s Gérard?”

“Mel’s boyfriend,” Gabriel says. “He’s the chargé d’affaires at the French embassy. He’s a good man.”

“That’s cool that you guys are so open about your…relationships and stuff,” Jack says awkwardly.

Gabriel hands him his coat, which had apparently been hung on a coat-peg beside the front door by the housekeeper.

“You think it’s weird, don’t you,” he says. “That Mel and I live together and we’re divorced.”

“I guess it’s a little strange. But you two have a kid together, so it’s probably a lot better for him, right? To have you both around?”

“That’s exactly why we decided to do it,” Gabriel says, as they walk toward the elevator. “We didn’t want to make Jesse’s life miserable and subject him to the stress of breaking up his home and making him live in two places. Technically, I have custody of him, but Mel wants to be with him as much as she can. Since she lives in Paris more than half the time, this arrangement makes that a lot easier.”

“I really do think it’s great,” Jack says earnestly. “Most kids with divorced parents don’t have that kind of option available to them.”

“I’m glad it doesn’t bother you too much. I wasn’t going to spring it on you all the sudden like I wound up doing, but it’s important to me that my situation isn’t uncomfortable for you.”

“It’s not, actually,” Jack laughs. “Amelie is pretty amazing. And she seems like a lot of fun to be around.”

“She is. She’s still my best friend. That’s not just something I say to be diplomatic. I love her like a sister. Unfortunately, that’s not what wives tend to want from a husband.”

They have reached the lobby and are stepping out into the brisk, cool air of early evening. They turn left and head down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace.

“How did it happen?” Jack says. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“I don’t mind. It was amicable. She was an absolute saint, to tell you the truth. We hadn’t shared a bedroom in three years when I finally screwed up the courage to tell her, and she had never complained.”

“Three years?” Jack asks incredulously. “How did it not come up before that?”

“She said she’d known for a long time, but she was waiting for me to come out to her on my own. I was a coward, so it took me a lot longer than it should have. She wasn’t bitter or angry with me though, and she never made me feel guilty or ashamed. I am deeply grateful to her for being so good to me.”

“Well, she seems even more amazing now.”

“I’ll let her know you think so,” Gabriel smiles.

“How does her boyfriend handle all of this?”

“Oh, Gérard is very… _French_ about it. He’s totally ok with the living arrangements and he’s always been friendly with me and kind to Jesse. Mel wants to wait to marry him until Jesse leaves for college, so her moving out of the house won’t be such a big deal, and he says he’ll wait as long as she needs him to.”

“He’ll wait like, four more years?”

“He says he will, and I’m inclined to believe him. Mel is a treasure. But I am trying to convince her to do it sooner. I don’t want her putting even more of her life on hold because I was an idiot.”

“You know, you can’t call yourself a coward or an idiot and expect me to take you seriously, Gabriel. I haven’t seen any evidence of either. Aside from the fact that you seem to like me.”

“Alright, we’ll make a deal. I won’t say those things about myself, and you’ll stop sneakily insulting yourself, as if I don’t notice.”

“Ok, deal,” Jack grins. “But I get a few do-overs, right? It’s a lifelong habit and I might have a hard time quitting cold-turkey.”

“Sure. But don’t go crazy. If you push it, I might have to punish you.”

“Ooh, punish me how?”

“Jack, you could try not to look so pleased with the idea of being punished. People might start to think you’re kinky.”

“I might start to think I am if you keep threatening punishments and restraints and stuff. It makes my stomach do a little flip-flop thing.”

Gabriel laughs out loud and has to stop himself from kissing Jack right there in the street. “You are so fucking adorable. The way you talk sometimes…it’s like it’s your first day on the planet.”

“I don’t mean to talk that way,” Jack says sheepishly. “I’m just…not good at describing feelings and things. My therapist is teaching me, though.”

“Is that because of your father?”

“That I’m seeing a therapist?”

“Well, that too, but I meant the reason you’re kind of…emotionally illiterate. Is it because your father didn’t teach you to express those things?”

“He more than didn’t teach me,” Jack says, with an edge of resentment in his voice. “He actively prohibited any talking about or showing feelings other than anger. He screamed at me for crying because I missed my mother. Like, three weeks after her funeral.”

“Jesus, Jack, I am so sorry.”

Jack shrugs. “Well, I’m working through it, you know? I can’t let the past ruin the rest of my life.”

“That’s an extremely good attitude. I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself.”

“I can’t really take credit for it,” Jack says. “Ana made me start going about eighteen months ago. But I’m glad she did. I really like Dr. Ziegler and she’s helped me a lot.”

“Jack, this is fucking bizarre. You’re seeing Angela Ziegler?”

“Yeah, I—wait you know her?”

“She’s Jesse’s therapist. I can’t believe we never ran into you at her office.”

“Um…I go Monday afternoons.”

“Ah. That makes sense, then,” Gabriel says. “I take Jesse every other Wednesday. But it’s great to hear you’re seeing her. She’s fantastic. You’re in good hands.”

Jack suddenly feels strangely claustrophobic at the idea that his life has coincided in this very personal way with Gabriel’s. He knows he’s being ridiculous, but his therapy is intensely private to him, and the idea of Gabriel and Dr. Ziegler discussing him makes him agitated. Of course they wouldn’t, but the image has taken root in his mind and is already bouncing around adding to his anxiety. Gabriel is pointing out a little café where they can get good espresso, so he doesn’t notice Jack’s sudden discomfiture. By the time he looks again, Jack has erased any sign of it from his face.

The young woman at the counter giggles and flirts with the two extraordinarily good-looking gentlemen as they order, and Gabriel rewards her with a handsome tip and a wink when they pick up their beverages. He and Jack go across the bustling city street to a little green park with accommodating benches beneath the trees. Jack sips his coffee and stares at Gabriel, making his eyes as big and round as possible, until Gabriel laughs and tells him he looks like one of Jesse’s manga characters.

“Come on. No more putting it off,” Jack says. “Let’s hear about the cock cages.”

“Ok, so a cock cage is a male chastity device,” Gabriel explains. “It’s used by the so-inclined for…discipline. Orgasm denial, forced celibacy, that kind of thing.”

“Oh,” Jack says. He blinks thoughtfully. “So, forgive my ignorance, but I thought kinky stuff was all about sex. Why would chastity devices be part of it?”

“It is about sex, but it’s not always about the physical act. The point of that sort of thing is to make the submissive partner totally reliant upon the dominant partner for any sexual stimulation they receive.”

“It’s to stop the submissive from having sex with other people?”

“No, not—I mean yes, it functions that way too, but if you have to cage your sub to stop them fucking other people, then you probably need to reexamine your relationship. It’s more about the sub being unable to get any sexual release without the Dom’s permission, not even by self-stimulation.”

“So…what makes you so interested in them? The cages, I mean.”

“All power exchanges are interesting to me,” Gabriel says. “But the concept of a submissive partner wanting to be dominated to that degree, giving control of their body to the dominant partner, even when they’re not around.…it’s beautiful. Maybe I’m just selfish, but I’m a sucker for the idea of being desired that much. Being wanted more than a person wants to fulfill their basic sexual urges.”

“I don’t think that sounds selfish,” Jack says brightly. “It actually sounds kind of romantic.”

“Does it?” Gabriel laughs. “Well, that’s better than you thinking I’m a disgusting pervert.”

Once again, Jack hears that subtle cooling in Gabriel’s tone. He must have said something wrong, but he can’t understand what it could have been. He’d responded as openly and positively as he could to this strange new idea. He’s just not sure what to think of chastity devices yet. Maybe he needs to understand more about kinky people first.

“Jack,” Gabriel says. His face looks serious. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why did you shut down like that, when we were talking after we had sex. Was it…did I do something wrong?”

Jack frowns. “What? No. It was the best sex I’ve ever had. What do you mean shut down?”

“I don’t mean to be so blunt, but I felt like a wall came up afterward. I was afraid that I went too far and triggered your anxiety about your—”

“My small dick?” Jack says, perhaps a shade too defensively. He softens his tone. “No. It was perfect. You made me feel good and sexy and desired. I haven’t felt like that in…well, ever.”

“I’m glad, then. I can’t stand the idea that I did anything to distress you. But…it was almost tangible how closed off you were. There must have been something.”

Jack wavers, taking a sip of his coffee to buy himself a moment.

“It’s just…you’re very…intense, Gabriel,” he says cautiously. “I’m not used to it, and I got kind of…overwhelmed.”

Gabriel smiles. He looks hurt, but he’s trying to hide it. “I’ve been told that before. All the things I threw at you today…that must have been a lot. I mean, I know it was a lot. Way too much. I’m sorry, Jack.”

Jack’s stomach turns. Not in the good, nice way. In the sick, anxious, pre-panic way.

“No, Gabriel, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, with a tense tremor creeping into his voice. “It was a lot, but not too much. Your family stuff and all that, I’m really ok with it. Please don’t be upset with me, I didn’t say it right.”

Gabriel hooks his arm around Jack and pulls him close. His calming, reassuring presence has an instant effect. Jack takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, as his boiling anxiety simmers and cools.

“It’s ok, Jack,” Gabriel says softly. “I know what you meant. I’m a lot to handle emotionally. I am very focused, often to a fault. I didn’t intend to do it, but I think I may have pressured you to meet me somewhere you simply weren’t ready to go. That’s what I’m apologizing for.”

“I want to be ready, Gabriel. I’ve never met anyone like you in my life.” Tears spring unexpectedly into Jack’s eyes. He hates himself for crying again, but he can’t help it. He dashes them away and hides his face in the dense, scratchy wool of Gabriel’s pea-coat. “This is all so fast though, and I’m so…afraid.”

Gabriel presses his lips to Jack’s forehead. “It’s alright, mi sol. We can slow—”

His sentence is cut short by an occurrence that would have perplexed anyone else. To Gabriel and Jack, however, the bright, rapid bursts of a high-speed flash bulb are all too familiar. Jack sits upright with a start and stares in horror. A young paparazzo is crouching a few meters from them, snapping candid photographs of their private moment.

Jack’s face goes ash white and his hands shake. “Gabriel—”

“Hold my coffee,” Gabriel says calmly, handing Jack the paper cup.

“What are you going to do?” Jack says, in a choked whisper.

“Talk to him.”

Gabriel stands up and takes a few measured steps, like a man trying not to scare off a stray dog. Jack watches him. He smiles serenely as the young man continues to snap photos.

“Hey, chico,” he says, in an easy tone. “Ven acá. Let’s talk for a minute.”

The young man hops to his feet and backs away a step. “Hey, man, you can’t touch me. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“It’s ok,” Gabriel says. “I know you’re within your rights, here. I just want to talk to you.”

Jack watches in awe as Gabriel’s calm, commanding manner seems to have a magical effect on the jumpy photographer. He glances about uneasily, but he approaches and stands within arm’s reach of Gabriel. Jack strains to hear their voices over the noise of traffic, but they are speaking in Spanish, so it doesn’t matter anyway. He sees the paparazzo’s expression shift from apprehensive to relaxed, and within a few minutes, the two men are laughing companionably. Gabriel slaps the younger man’s back in a hearty, masculine way that Jack has seen other men do with friends. The man hands something to Gabriel, then the two exchange cheerful goodbyes and he goes away. Just like that.

Jack gapes at Gabriel as he strolls back to the bench and sits down.

Gabriel looks at him innocently. “What?”

“You know what!” Jack exclaims. “What happened?”

“I talked to him.”

“What did you say to him?” Jack demands, practically beside himself.

Gabriel laughs. “I asked him about his camera. Then we talked about photography. I introduced myself and offered to take him out and show him a few tricks of the trade sometime. He apologized for intruding, and he gave me this.”

Gabriel takes his coffee and drops something into Jack’s hand. Jack holds it up to inspect it.

“He gave you the memory card from his camera?” he says, astonished.

“Yep.”

“You asked him for it?”

“Nope.”

“But how did—what—”

“I didn’t have to ask. It was a professional courtesy.”

Jack studies the scarred, handsome face of the man beside him. He can’t comprehend how someone can exert so much influence over a total stranger, simply by talking with them for a moment.

_Power. Real power._

“He wanted to give it to you,” Jack says slowly. “Because he knew you wanted it.”

“Seems that way, yeah.”

“Wow, Gabriel. Just…that was so sexy.” Jack’s blue eyes kindle. “Take me home and fuck me. Right now.”

Gabriel does not wait to be asked twice. They ditch their coffee cups in a garbage receptacle and just barely manage to keep their hands off each other till they are inside Gabriel’s penthouse. They fight their way up the stairs, kissing and groping like teenagers in a parked car. Gabriel kicks off his shoes, but they have to stop to unlace Jack’s boots, which Gabriel does while Jack pulls off his sweater and undershirt. He strips Gabriel’s torso as they make their way to the bed. He pushes Gabriel down onto it and peels off his own jeans and underwear, then Gabriel’s.

Jack climbs onto the bed, straddling Gabriel’s lap. Gabriel reaches up and pulls him into his strong arms, into a deep, aching, longing kiss, their bodies pressed together as if they can’t bear to have a molecule of space between them. He groans softly as Jack’s hand slides down and takes firm hold of his cock, then gasps as Jack slicks him with cold, viscous lubricant.

“You don’t want to prep first?” Gabriel asks.

“We fucked, like, two hours ago,” Jack laughs. “I’m ready for you.”

He covers Gabriel’s mouth with his again. Without breaking the kiss, he guides him into his hot, tight hole and begins to rock his hips. Gabriel pulls them up into a sitting position and takes Jack’s ass in both hands, lifting it up and pushing it down along with Jack’s rhythm.

“Touch me,” Jack breathes, looking into Gabriel’s eyes. “Just…hold me in your hand while I ride you.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Touch me. Please.”

Jack rests his forehead on Gabriel’s shoulder and looks down between them. He watches Gabriel’s large, dusky-brown hand close over his cock, entirely enveloping the shaft and head in its firm warmth. He bucks up with his hips. Gabriel holds his hand steady, allowing Jack’s cock to move in it, rather than trying to stroke him. Jack gives a low, shuddering moan and lifts his head. He lets it loll back and arches his spine, then he lurches forward and pushes Gabriel onto his back. He sits up and grips Gabriel’s thighs.

Gabriel watches breathlessly as Jack rides him, fucking into his fist as he fucks himself on his thick, solid shaft. He begins to thrust up to meet him as he comes down. Jack’s blue eyes fall closed and his rosy, pouting lips part, emitting little moans of pleasure with each impact. Gabriel thrusts harder and faster, gazing raptly into the angel’s face. His cheeks are flushed and his chest is streaked with pink. Beads of sweat roll down his neck. Gabriel ventures a little more pressure, squeezing his hand tighter around Jack’s enclosed cock. Jack’s beautiful lips tremble. His insides begin to constrict. His abdominal muscles tense and his body shakes all over.

“Come for me, Jack,” Gabriel purrs. “Come for me, baby.”

He squeezes once more and Jack gives a sharp cry, jerking his hips erratically as his cock spasms in Gabriel’s fist, hot fluid running out between his fingers. He sways and almost falls, but Gabriel catches him and rolls him smoothly onto his back, murmuring half-intelligible words of adoration in Spanish and English as he thrusts himself rapidly to climax inside him. Then he falls into Jack’s arms and they lie face to face, gazing unabashedly into each other’s eyes as they catch their breath and let their hearts stop pounding.

“Ok, forget what I said before,” Jack pants, when he has recovered his ability to form words. “ _That_ was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

 

 

 

 


	5. Le Chat Gris

Jack: Hey Banana I’m home what you doing?

Ana: Literally everything.

Ana: You’re home, as in you just got home now? From your lunch date? Yesterday?

Jack: yep

Ana: So it went well.

Jack: yep

Ana: …

Jack: WE HAD SEXXXXXX

Ana: Fareeha was looking at my phone and saw that.

Ana: She says gross.

Jack: boooo tell her no slut shaming!

Ana: What happened to waiting until you were both ready?

Jack: I guess we were ready

Jack: I expected you to be happier for me :-/

Ana: Don’t pout Sugar Smack! I’m very happy for you.

Ana: I am also in the grocery store and can’t appropriately express my elation without being asked to leave.

Ana: How was it?

Jack: AMAZING

Ana: All caps amazing? Wow.

Jack: If I could describe it in all emojis I would

Ana: Please do not.

Ana: When are you seeing him again?

Jack: Not till Wednesday cause I have that show Tuesday

Ana: Speaking of which, we have your final rehearsal tomorrow. You all set?

Jack: Yeah. I don’t really do much but show up and walk. It’s not rocket science.

Ana: Hang on. We’re checking out now. I’ll call you in a sec.

Jack: Ok

Jack sits down at his computer and looks over the schedule for the Givenchy show Tuesday. He’s the “star” model for the show, which means he has to walk almost twice as often as anyone else, but it also means he doesn’t have to walk _with_ anyone else, so that’s a plus. After about ten minutes, his phone chirps.

“Hey, Banana,” he answers cheerfully.

“Hey, Jackie,” Ana’s husky voice comes back. He can hear that she’s walking down the street as she talks to him. “Listen, about the show. It’s not too late to cancel. I won’t be upset.”

“I’m not cancelling,” Jack says flatly.

“I’m not saying I want you to,” she says. “I just want to make sure you’re going to be ok.”

“I’m not letting Ryan chase me out of jobs,” Jack insists. “If he has a problem, he can cancel.”

“Well if he makes it a problem for you, I’ll see to it he never walks in this town again.”

“I know you would, but…we both know he won’t. He’ll behave like a perfect angel and make me miserable by just being there, and if I react I’ll look crazy. All I can do is show up and do my best.”

“I suppose you are right,” Ana says resignedly. “Well, who knows. Maybe he’s matured since last September.”

Jack sighs. “I certainly have.”

“No, Jackie, cut that shit out. You’re only two years older than him—what? Ryan Taylor, sweetheart, Jackie’s ex. Fareeha wanted to know who we’re talking about.”

Jack clearly hears Fareeha say the words “that prissy bitch” in the background and laughs merrily as Ana scolds her for her language.

“She’s right, though,” Ana says, speaking to Jack again. “He is a prissy bitch.”

“Yeah, well, he’s also a drop-dead gorgeous bitch,” Jack says ruefully. “And he’s getting more and more popular. Prada and Karl Lagerfeld in one month—I mean, come on. I’ll be no match for him pretty soon.”

“It’s going to take more than a little snot-nosed Canadian to knock you off the top, Jackie,” Ana says staunchly. “You’re the best there is and everyone knows it. Who got the Summer spread in Recherché? You. Who got an offer from Gabriel Reyes? You. Ryan Taylor is nothing compared to you, so no more prophecies of doom, ok?”

“Ok, fine,” Jack says. “But I get to be a huge hot mess after the show and you have to let me eat all the ice cream I want.”

“What do you think I was doing at the grocery store?”

There is a pause.

“Ana,” Jack says.

“What?”

“I love you.”

“I know. We’ll be there in a half hour.”

Jack sets his phone on the kitchen counter and picks up the vibrating ball of grey and white fur that is affectionately headbutting his shin.

“Hi there, hungry hippo,” he coos, carrying the cat into the kitchen with him. “You’re such a flirt when you want something.”

He opens the cabinet and curses under his breath. He’s out of cat food. He sets her down and picks up his phone again to text Ana.

Jack: Hey you didn’t happen to grab food for the princess did you?

As he is typing this, the insistent feline hops up onto the counter and nuzzles the phone. Jack puts his hands on his hips and eyes her sternly.

“Athena Louise Morrison, you get down from there,” he says. “You know you’re not supposed to be on the counters.”

“Bwah,” Athena puts forth.

“I know, honeyball, but we’re all out,” Jack explains. “Ana will be here in a minute then we’ll get some ok?”

“Mrrrm,” Athena says, by way of acquiescence. She sits down on her sleek haunches and waits politely.

“Athena,” Jack says, crossing his arms. “What did I just say?”

She blinks up at him sweetly and asks, “Row?”

“No, I said get down.”

“Brrrf,” she retorts.

Having made her point, she hops down from the counter and sulks off to flop down in the sunbeam before the glass door to Jack’s balcony.

“Oh, you’re gonna pout now?” Jack says to her as he goes to his closet for a fresh t-shirt and jeans.

She thwacks her tail on the floor and huffs like a furry little bellows. He laughs at her display of feline displeasure as he strips off his clothing to change. He stands before his full-length mirror and inspects himself closely. He’s in hyperbolic physical condition, without an ounce of fat on his body, and his face is almost as youthful and fresh as it had been two years ago, when he and Ryan had broken up.

He sighs as he pulls on his clean clothes. Almost. But not quite. There are microscopic lines of care beginning between his brows and at the outer corners of his large blue eyes. His jaw is as fine and strong as ever, but his facial hair comes in thicker now and he has to shave carefully, lest he look too masculine and be thought unsuitable for perfume and clothing advertisements.

It’s such an odd thing, he thinks, how these marketing people seem to want their models to have extraordinarily muscular bodies, but baby faces. Ryan certainly has that. His mouth is a perfect, cupid’s-bow pout. His eyes are huge, grey, long-lashed, and seem to be perpetually sad. Those eyes, in combination with his natural, soft curls of light-brown hair, give him a kind of romantic schoolboy air.

God, he was beautiful. Jack had been so in love with him, too. In that mad, passionate, needy way one falls in love when one is young and inexperienced. It had taken him six months and a therapist to start sleeping regularly after they’d broken up. His career had suffered minimally, thanks to Ana’s diligent care, but the breakup had nearly ended him emotionally. Who knew a boy so cherubic and lovely could be so cold and cruel. Jack’s chest constricts painfully as that last conversation echoes in his mind.

_I’ve tried, Jack, I really have. But I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t bother me. It’s not fair to you and it’s not fair to me._

_Look, we’ve had a lot of fun together, but it’s not like we’re soul mates or anything._

_I do love you. I’m just not in love with you the way you want me to be._

_You’re almost perfect, Jack._

_Almost._

Then Gabriel’s words to him come rolling in like distant thunder, obliterating the echoes of that young seraph’s voice from his mind.

_You are beautiful. You are perfect._

Jack doesn’t realize he’s sitting on the floor of his closet until the noise of his front door opening startles him back to himself. He hops up and puts on a cheerful grin as Ana and her lovely, black-haired daughter trundle in loaded with brown paper shopping bags.

“Hey Banana, hey Ha-ha,” he says, helping set the bags on the counter. “Thanks for shopping! What kind of fun goodies did you get?”

“Food and things the housekeeper said you were out of,” Ana says, pausing to kiss him on the cheek.

“And a bunch of ice cream!” Fareeha adds enthusiastically.

“Oh, yeah,” Jack laughs, glancing about at the tidy apartment. “It’s all clean in here. I didn’t even notice.”

“You are such a bimbo,” Fareeha grins.

“I know you are but what am I?” Jack retorts.

Fareeha sticks out her tongue. “A bimbo!”

Jack mirrors the gesture. “Takes one to know one!”

“Alright, alright,” Ana breaks in. “Let’s all just agree that you’re both bimbos.”

“Nuh-uh, only Jack is!” Fareeha says. “Now where’s my sweet hungry girl?”

“She’s pouting in her sunbeam,” Jack says, indicating to the dozing furball across the room. “I made her get off the counter and she was deeply offended.”

“Athenaaaa,” Fareeha calls coaxingly. “Guess what your favorite person brought.”

Athena’s tail smacks the floor and her back remains obstinately turned. Her ears twitch, however, as she hears her saucer clink onto the kitchen floor, and as Fareeha pulls the metal tab to open the can, the cat practically materializes underfoot, curling and twining about her legs.

“Ok, calm down,” Fareeha laughs. “I’ll drop the food on your head, dummy.”

As this is going on, Jack hears his phone vibrate on the counter. He picks it up and then stands there staring at the screen.

“What is it, Jackie?” Ana asks, seeing the odd expression on his face.

“It’s a message from Gabriel. _Hey, Jack, I don’t want to intrude, but I wanted to let you know I was invited to the show Tuesday. I’ll come if you’d like me to, but I won’t be offended if you’d rather not have me ogling you at work. Let me know_. What…what do I say?”

“Well, do you want him to come to the show?” Ana asks.

“No,” Jack says. “I—I don’t know. It might be weird. You know…with Ryan there.”

“Then tell him not to come,” Ana shrugs. “It’s no big deal.”

“What? No!” Fareeha exclaims, tearing her attention from her feline adorer. “Tell him to come! What could be better than for that prissy b—uh, brat—to see you with your hot new boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jack says, flushing scarlet.

“Ugh, what-everrrr,” Fareeha says. “Your hot new guy you have sex with, then.”

“Fareeha!” Ana chides. “You are getting far too free with your talk, miss.”

“Jack said it! I saw the message on your phone and it corrupted my innocent mind. So really, this is your fault, mother. You totally dropped the ball on sex talk.”

“What is considered too late for a late-term abortion?” Ana says, tapping her bottom lip musingly.

“Fourteen years is a stretch, mommy dear,” Fareeha replies jauntily. “I’m afraid we’re stuck with each other till you die of old age next week.”

“I’m not that old. Jack’s new boyfriend is my age, you know.”

“He’s not my—” 

“Yeah, but he’s hot,” Fareeha sniffs. “You’re like, basically a grandma.”

“Come here!” Ana laughs, catching her in a bear hug. “I’ll grandma you, you little weasel!”

“You two be nice!” Jack says, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “I have never heard of a mother and daughter talking to each other like this.”

“That’s probably true,” Fareeha agrees, straightening her hair. “We are very clever.”

“So, what are you going to say?” Ana wants to know. “Are you going to tell him to come?”

“Well…no one knows anything happened between us,” Jack says hesitantly. “And I doubt he’d be anything but professional with me in public. But what if I’m nervous and I fuck up or something. Or what if he sees Ryan and like… _likes_ him.”

Ana and Fareeha express enthusiastic disbelief that this is a possibility and gently scold Jack for his lack of self-confidence until he admits how silly it sounds.

“Ok, I think I’m going to tell him to come,” Jack says. “Maybe it’ll be good to have him there. He does make me feel better about myself.”

“Good. He should and you deserve it,” Ana says firmly.

Fareeha nods encouragingly and Jack types his response.

Jack: Hey Gabriel! It wouldn’t bother me at all if you came. It’s no big deal if you’re busy, though.

 

 

 

Gabriel sits gazing at Jack’s message for a long moment, attempting to decipher the underlying meaning in the text. This is not a no, but it’s not exactly an enthusiastic yes, either.

“Come on, viejo,” Olivia says impatiently. “What did he say?”

The two are seated at their weekly meeting spot, a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant run by a little abuela and staffed by members of her copious and friendly family. They had discovered it while on an outing together years ago, and it’s the only place in the city they agree has anything worth eating as far as Mexican cuisine.

Gabriel looks up at his daughter uncertainly. “I don’t know what this means. You speak young-people. Help me out.”

He hands her the phone and she reads the message.

“Hm,” she says, chewing her lip. “So, like, he’s either trying to play it cool, or he’s super insecure and trying not to sound needy. _Or_ he doesn’t want you to come but he also doesn’t want to offend you by saying no.”

“You goddamn kids,” Gabriel grumbles. “Why can’t any of you say what you mean?”

“I say exactly what I mean all the time,” Olivia grins, handing back the phone. “But I learned from you, so I’m special.”

“You are special, mija,” Gabriel smiles. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Ok, don’t go all mushy on me, old man,” Olivia says, pretending to be embarrassed by the praise. “We were talking about your pretty white boyfriend, remember?”

“He’s not my boyfriend. And you’re supposed to be telling me what to do. So? What do I do?”

“Papá…you’re really worked up about this guy,” she says seriously. “I haven’t seen you act like this about anyone before. Are you sure you’re not taking things too fast?”

“I’m not sure at all, actually,” Gabriel sighs. “I can’t keep control of myself when he’s around. He just…does something to my brain.”

“Your brain?” Olivia says, arching an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re thinking with?”

Gabriel crosses his arms on his broad chest. “What else would I be thinking with, young lady?”

“I was gonna say your heart,” Olivia laughs. “Jeez, get your head out of the gutter, dad.”

“Sure you were,” he says, eyeing her cagily. “Anyway, whatever part of my body I’m thinking with, I need to get it together. I’ve never felt so stupid and out of my depth with someone before.”

“That’s what you get for dating a guy closer to my age than yours.”

“He’s not—” Gabriel stops short. “Holy shit, you’re right. He _is_ closer to your age. Hijo de puta. What the fuck am I doing, Ollie? Am I making a total fool of myself with this kid?”

“I doubt it,” she says. “He’d have to be pretty fucking dumb not to see what an insanely good catch you are. Wait, he’s not, is he?”

“What?”

“Dumb. Cause a lot of the male models we’ve worked with are…let’s call them…not exactly Rhodes scholars.”

“Ah. No, not at all,” Gabriel says decidedly. “He’s a little odd, but he’s a lot smarter than he likes to think.”

“Odd?” Olivia says, munching on a tortilla chip.

“Yeah. He’s strangely literal sometimes. Like, he doesn’t know the standard, boilerplate phrases other people use, so he just says things his own way. And he doesn’t know how to describe his emotions, but he makes almost no effort to conceal what he’s feeling at any particular moment. It’s pretty refreshing, actually.”

“And…? What else?”

“And he’s got a seriously fucked up self-concept.”

“There it is,” she says, as if he’s finally hit upon something she’d been expecting. “Fucked up how?”

“Fucked up like, he’s the highest-paid male model in the world, and yet he seems to actually believe he’s some kind of pitiable loser. You know he hadn’t had sex in two years? What kind of young, hot gay man who’s constantly surrounded by other young, hot gay men hasn’t had sex in two years?”

“So, he’s a baby bird with a broken wing, huh?”

“No, it’s…not exactly like that.” Gabriel’s cheeks color slightly. “He’s got a therapist and his best friend and—I’m not trying to fix him.”

“I hope not, papá. Because you should know by now you can’t fix people. Especially people who don’t want to be fixed.”

“I know, mija,” he says quietly.

Though neither says it outright, they both know they are talking about Olivia’s mother, who had brought her infant daughter to Gabriel’s family while he was away at basic training and begged them for help. His mother and sisters had taken her in and cared for her and Gabriel’s baby. It was clear to them that she was suffering from some kind of addiction, so they made their best efforts to get her clean. This had appeared to be going well, until she vanished one night, leaving the baby girl behind. She had not been heard of again until her death from an opiate overdose was mentioned in passing on the local news.

“Even if someone does want you to fix them, you can’t do that,” she continues, after a pause. “They have to make their own mistakes and learn on their own, or they’ll become dependent on you and wind up resenting you. So, if this guy is another project, stop seeing him right now. But if you really like him, you better go to that fucking show.”

Gabriel nods. “You’re right. I’ll go to the show. I do like him and I want him to know it, so there’s no point in playing games and trying to act cool.”

“Exactly.” She grins mischievously. “Also, you’re not getting any younger. I’d hate to see you throw away your last chance at a trophy husband before I stick you in an old-folks home.”

“An old-folks home, huh? Eat your tamales, loba.”

“I’m eating, I’m eating,” she says, through a mouthful of pulled pork and masa. “Text him back!”

Gabriel: Great. I’ll see you there, then. You might not see me, since I’ll be back in the third row, but I’d like to take you out for dinner afterward, if you’re free.

 

 

 

“Well, there goes our post-show slumber party,” Ana says. “What are we going to do with all the ice cream?”

“I guess we’ll have to bite the bullet and eat it now,” Fareeha replies, hopping up from the couch and heading for the kitchen. “Don’t want to let it go to waste.”

“Dibs on the rocky road!” Ana calls out, getting up to follow her.

“I haven’t even said yes yet,” Jack says. “Jeez, you vultures. Give a guy a minute before you descend upon the ice cream.”

“Tell him yes!” both women exclaim in unison.

“I am!” Jack laughs. “Bring me the pint of strawberry, would you?”

Jack: I’d like that. I’ll see you Tuesday then. :)

 

 

 

“He uses emojis?” Olivia says. “You must really like him, papá. The last time a guy sent you a message with a smiley face in it, you talked about it like he’d sent you a copy of _Mein Kampf_.”

“Listen, I am learning to appreciate the…convenience of such things,” Gabriel says. “I’m an old dog, but I can still be taught new tricks.”

“Oh yeah? You ever used one?”

“Christ, no. I’m thirty-seven. I don’t think I’m even legally allowed to.”

“You’re probably right. I can just see the headline now. ‘Old man arrested for trying to be too down with youth culture’. It’d be a groundbreaking case.”

“It certainly would. You’d have to act as my hipness consultant.”

“I already do. So, what does Mel think of your güerolito?”

“They only talked for a little while, but I can tell she likes him. She showed him her Crown and Cross workroom.”

“Ooh, really? She usually treats that stuff like national security secrets.”

“Yep. They went through all the pieces she had there and talked about her designs together. It was pretty adorable.”

“Is he going to model for her?”

“Yeah, unless I fuck things up between us. Then I doubt he’ll be too excited about having me photograph him.”

“Well, here’s to hoping you don’t fuck it up, papi,” she says, raising her glass. “I’ll be rooting for you.”

 

 

 

Jack is exiting his changing room in his second outfit for the show, when he catches sight of the back of a head he knows without a doubt belongs to Ryan. Light brown hair, clipped close at the sides, with a rakish sweep of curly waves at the crown. His stomach does a bad kind of flip and he hopes the wardrobe girl will hurry it the fuck up.

No such luck. The young man turns at that moment and heads through the bustling backstage in Jack’s direction. He’s in a pair of fitted black slacks and white tank top, and he’s carrying a black blazer. His body is long and lean and athletic, though it lacks the hard definition of Jack’s. But he moves it with a natural ease and fluidity which Jack could never emulate. He’s just as beautiful now as he’d been in September, of course. 

“Hey, Jack,” he says. His big grey eyes light up with a smile as he approaches the wardrobe station. “How have you been?”

“Hey, Ryan,” Jack says rather stiffly. “Good. You?”

“I’m pretty good.” He laughs awkwardly and holds up the blazer. “It’s two sizes too small. I think they used my measurements from the last time I did Givenchy, which was like, three years ago.”

“Mhmm,” Jack nods distractedly. “Probably.”

They stand there waiting for the wardrobe assistant in uncomfortable silence for a moment.

“So, Jack,” Ryan says. “I wanted to say thanks.”

Jack forces himself to look into that beautiful face. “For what?”

“For, uh…you know. Letting me do the show with you and everything.”

“What do you mean, letting you?”

“I mean for not refusing to share a runway with me.”

Jack frowns. “Why would I do something like that?”

Ryan shrugs his lithe, well-built shoulders. “You did in Milan, during fashion week.”

“That’s not what happened, Ryan,” Jack says. He feels a flush of anger rising into his face. “I _asked_ you not to do it as a personal favor. That show was really important to me.”

Ryan’s languid eyes flash with uncharacteristic energy. “It was important to me, too, Jack. And you were ten times more famous than I was. You had no right to ask me not to do it.”

“No, I didn’t have a right to. But I thought you gave a shit about me and you might want to stay away for my sake.”

“Why would I?” Ryan mutters. “You never gave a shit about me.”

“What was that?” Jack snaps. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

Ryan lifts his perfect chin and looks Jack squarely in the eye.

“I said you never gave a shit about me,” he says icily. “So why would I forgo an event that was so important to my career for you?”

“Never gave a—I was in love with you!” Jack hisses under his breath. “You dumped _me_ , if you don’t recall.”

“I do recall. Do you remember the reason?”

“You wanted a real man,” Jack says bitterly. “With a nice big cock like yours.”

“Oh…my _god_ ,” Ryan says, blinking his wide, grey eyes in a display of wounded disbelief. “You know, I honestly hoped we could clear the air and be friends, Jack. But I guess that’s not going to happen. Do me a favor and stay away from me. We don’t have to talk to each other, we just have to get through the show.”

“You came over here,” Jack rejoins. “I didn’t want to talk to you in the first place.”

“I came to get a different jacket, you asshole,” Ryan says, tossing the blazer onto the table. “I hope you—just…go to hell, Jack.”

With that, he turns and strides briskly (but still gracefully, god damn him) away between the clothing racks and makeup stations and disappears from Jack’s view. His naturally melancholy, angelic face had looked strained and actually angry. If Jack didn’t know better, he’d almost think the young man had been about to cry. Jack glares after him for a moment, then he shakes his head. How dare Ryan come to him with this bullshit now?

_Clear the air and be friends. What the fuck is he talking about. He’s the reason I haven’t been able to fuck anyone in two years and he calls me an asshole? Fuck him._

The wardrobe assistant returns at last and gets Jack his next ensemble. She asks about the blazer lying on the table. Jack is tempted to say he doesn’t know, but he finds himself incapable of being that petty. He tells her who it belongs to and that it was too small, then takes his clothes to his dressing room. Ana arrives when he is almost dressed to check in.

“Fucking Ryan came over here and called me an asshole,” Jack says irritably, sitting down to put on his shoes.

“That little—I will fucking end him,” Ana says. “He just walked over here and called you an asshole?”

“Well, no, not just like that,” Jack has to admit. “He came up to wardrobe while I was there and we…had a few words.”

“You want me to say something to the producer?”

“No, don’t do that. It was no big deal, really.” 

“Alright,” Ana says doubtfully. “But I’ll have an eye on him. If he so much as looks at you cross-eyed, I’ll have him tossed out of the show.”

“Thank you, Banana,” Jack grins. “Hey, at least I’m not nervous about seeing him anymore. That’s a plus.”

“Good, because they’re waiting for you. Move it, sweet cheeks.”

 

 

 


	6. S'il vous plaît

 

 

The house lights have gone down and bass-heavy music is being pumped through the venue’s sound system when Gabriel follows an usher to his seat. He nods his thanks and slides into the chair with his name on it. He arrived late specifically to avoid conversation with industry acquaintances, and he’s immediately glad he did, judging from the number of nods and waves he has to return in the ten seconds after he sits down.

The first model down the catwalk is Jack, of course. Gabriel smiles as he watches the golden-haired young man traverse the runway with long, easy strides, his face full of bored insouciance, as if being this gorgeous is a chore and he’d rather just be done with it. Gabriel’s attention wanders when Jack is not on stage. Aside from him and another boy he recognizes from a couple of House Lacroix shows, these models all look more or less the same to him.

Right before the end of the tedious display, he rises and slips unobtrusively away, before he can get caught in any inane conversation. He hooks around the side of the venue and strolls in through the backstage door, held open for him by one of the security personnel, who are well aware of who he is. He sees Ana immediately and smiles. Someone he’s genuinely glad to see. She sees him, too, and waves him over.

“Hello, Gabriel,” she says, in her lovely Egyptian lilt. “How are you this evening?”

“I’m well, thank you,” he says. “How are you? Jack keeping you busy?”

“Only every minute of every day,” she laughs. “I’m glad you came tonight, to be perfectly frank. He’s a little bit hyperactive after shows, and I am already exhausted. Fareeha is trying to drive me into an early grave, I swear.”

“I think that’s children’s job, isn’t it? We have to earn these grey hairs somehow.”

“You know what I mean, then. With the mood swings and the crying and the bouts of manic activity.”

“Oh, I do. When Olivia was her age, she was a complete cipher. I couldn’t predict what her mood would be at any moment, and every time something didn’t go her way, it was dad’s fault and her little feet would go stomp, and her door would slam shut. Then ten minutes later, it would be, ‘I love you so much, papi,’ and I’m the best dad ever again. I’m glad Jesse is a boy. So much easier.”

“I think Fareeha would have been born a boy, if she’d had a choice. That girl is the rowdiest fourteen-year-old I have ever met. Granted, I haven’t met very many fourteen-year-olds, but they can’t all be that way.”

“Well, we should take her and Jesse out sometime. Let them work out all that teenage energy talking to each other while we have a drink.”

“That sounds wonderful, Gabriel. We’d love to,” Ana smiles. Thunderous applause shakes the walls and they both look up. “Sounds like they’re done. You want to wait for Jack with me? He’ll just be a minute.”

“Sure,” Gabriel says. “If you don’t think he’ll be annoyed that I’m back here.”

“Are you kidding? He’ll be…what’s the opposite of annoyed? He’ll be whatever that is.”

Sure enough, within a few minutes, Jack filters through the throng of well-dressed young men and practically bounces up to them, beaming and bright-eyed.

“Hey Gabriel! Hey Banana! Wasn’t the show fantastic? It was so much fun, oh my god. Gabriel did you see me wink at you?”

Gabriel laughs. “I saw you wink. I didn’t know it was directed at me, though.”

“It was! I was talking to Johann before I walked and I told him there was this guy I liked in the audience and he said I should wink and I was like, what no way! And he said _he_ would so I was like, you know what I will, and then I almost chickened out but I thought what the hell and I did it anyway!”

“Well, it was certainly very charming. The audience loved it.”

“Really? Did they?” Jack says breathlessly. “I didn’t notice, I was so nervous about it. Did I look nervous?”

“Not at all,” Gabriel smiles. “You were perfect.”

“You were absolutely fabulous, my dear,” Ana says. “Now go change before wardrobe comes after you. We will wait.”

“Ok, but don’t go anywhere! I’ll be back in a few minutes!” Jack calls out as he hurries through the bustle to his changing area.

He gets into the little room and pulls the curtain shut. He grabs his bag and digs out his own clothing, then quickly strips out of Givenchy’s geometric-paneled black, white and grey shirt and white slacks. He is returning them to the hangers, when he hears the curtain open and someone step in. He isn’t wearing his prosthesis, since this show didn’t require any revealing clothing, so there’s no need for Ana to help. He supposes she just got impatient.

“I’m hurrying, you ass!” he laughs, turning around. Then he freezes in place. “Ryan. What the fuck are you doing in here. Get out.”

“Jack, wait,” the beautiful, languid-eyed boy says. “Please, just let me talk to you for a minute.”

“You told me to stay away from you!” Jack says, throwing his hands up in disbelief. “What the fuck?”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” Ryan says. He lowers his long eyelashes and casts his big grey eyes down at the floor. “I wanted to say that…I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Jack hisses, flushing with heat. “You actually came to apologize? Or is this just going to be one of those things where you pretend to apologize while you make it sound like it was all my fault.”

“Jack, please.” Ryan’s smooth voice trembles. “I had no right to talk to you that way. I was…upset from the shock of seeing you again and I said some stupid things.”

“You didn’t look upset,” Jack says, crossing his arms over his bare chest. He says a silent prayer to the clothing gods that he’s already got his underwear on.

“Well, I was. It’s hard for me to see you and not want to…”

“Want to what?”

“Want to…be with you,” the boy says softly. He lifts those devastating eyes and looks up at Jack sadly, almost pleadingly. “I never stopped loving you, Jack.”

“You—you never…what?” Jack says, utterly confused. “What are you talking about?”

This can’t be real. It’s not possible. Just yesterday, Ryan had called him an asshole and told him to stay away from him. More than that, he remembers what happened when they broke up. Ryan’s cold words about not being soul mates and not being in love the way Jack wanted him to. He strengthens himself with the anger and pain and forces himself to look right into the boy’s exquisite face.

“No, Ryan,” he says firmly. “This isn’t going to—”

“Jack, I’m not asking you to give me another chance,” Ryan interrupts. “I’m just saying that I want us to be friends. I miss talking to you and having fun with you. Remember how we used to go to the park and you’d make up backstories for all the people that walked by?”

“You said…that was stupid,” Jack says, wavering.

“I don’t think I said stupid. But if I did, I’m sorry. I’ve always admired how creative you are and how you’re always, like, thinking about things and trying to figure everything out.”

“No, you hated that,” Jack says, but he smiles in spite of himself. “You got mad at me for trying to find out what the difference was between garbanzo beans and chickpeas once.”

“Well, Jack,” Ryan laughs his musical laugh. “We’d been at the store for an hour and I was hungry. You’d already asked three different cashiers and no one knew.”

“It was an important investigation!” Jack says, laughing too. Then he catches himself.

_No, Jack! Stop! This is Ryan. He hasn’t changed._

_But what if he has changed and you’re just being an asshole because he hurt you a long time ago._

_He’s done this before. Don’t trust him. He’s trying to hurt you._

_But you’re always holding stupid grudges and judging people too harshly. Everyone deserves a second chance._

_Yes, but a third? Or a fourth?_

“I…I don’t know, Ryan,” Jack says at last. “You really hurt me. It took me a long time to get over you, and I’m not sure I’m ready to be around you yet.”

Ryan looks disappointed, but he smiles his cherubic smile. “It’s ok, Jack. I’m not trying to push you. Just…if you ever want to talk or anything, I’d like that. You still have my number, right?”

“Uh…no, actually,” Jack says, flushing crimson. “I deleted your contact so I wouldn’t be tempted to call you.”

“Well here,” Ryan says, drawing his phone out of his back pocket. “I’ll send you a text and then you’ll have it, just in case you ever think you might want to talk. No pressure.”

He types a message and slides his phone back into his pocket. Jack’s phone vibrates inside his bag.

“Anyway, thanks for hearing me out,” Ryan smiles again. A dazzling, youthful smile, like you see in department-store clothing catalogues. “And you were great tonight. You looked amazing.”

“Thanks,” Jack says uneasily. “You…looked amazing too.”

“Thank you,” Ryan says. He opens the curtain and glances back over his shoulder. “See you around, Johnny boy.”

Jack’s stomach turns and tightens in response to hearing the very private nickname spoken aloud. Ryan only ever used it when they were intimate.

_This is such an obvious manipulation, Jack. He’s bringing up good memories and trying to make you think about having sex with him. He knows just how to get into your head._

Jack sits down on floor and curls up into his self-protective posture. He grabs his hair with both hands and squeezes, as if he can physically force his thoughts back into order.

_Why is Ryan doing this? Why now?_

Just the thought of talking to him again makes Jack’s entire body shake. But it’s seizing with anxiety, not trembling in the fresh, exhilarating way it does when…Gabriel. Jack’s hands fall slack at his sides and he sighs deeply. All the sick, twisting knots in his stomach loosen and his head feels light and clear again.

_Gabriel. Gabriel._

A litany to calm the roiling storm of Jacks’ mind. He repeats the name like a mantra as he pulls his clothes on. Then he hurries over to wardrobe, drops off his outfit, and goes in search of Gabriel and Ana. He catches sight of Gabriel’s handsome face across the room and heads toward him. As he approaches, his blood freezes in his veins. Gabriel is standing there talking to Ryan, who had been obscured by a pillar. Too late. Gabriel is smiling at him. Now he has no escape. He walks heavily up to the two men and stands by Gabriel.

“Hey, there you are,” Gabriel says cheerfully. “I was starting to think you’d got lost.”

“Oh,” Ryan says, blinking. “Gabriel, you know Jack?”

“Yes, I photographed him for Recherché’s Summer spread.”

“How…do you two know each other?” Jack says. He can’t keep the perturbed look off his face, so he doesn’t try.

“Ryan modeled for House Lacroix a few times in Paris,” Gabriel says. He senses Jack’s discomfort and wants to extract him from the situation immediately. He smiles warmly. “Well, Ryan, it was great to see you. You did an excellent job tonight.”

“Thanks Gabriel,” Ryan grins. “Give Amélie my best and tell her I’m dying to work for her again. Jack, call me, ok?”

“Ok,” Jack repeats numbly. He stands there staring into the middle distance as Ryan trots away.

“Jack, are you alright?” Gabriel says, in that low, sonorous tone, somehow clearly audible over the commotion around them.

“I’m—yeah, I’m fine,” Jack says, snapping out of his stupor. “Where’s Ana?”

“She said she needed to get going before Fareeha burned the apartment down, and that she hoped I wouldn’t mind looking after you tonight.”

“Oh, ha…yeah,” Jack says awkwardly. “I told her we were going out after the show. I hope that’s ok.”

Gabriel smiles down at him. “Of course it is.”

Jack reaches out and plays absently with the buttons on Gabriel’s dark-crimson shirt. “Would you mind if we just…went to your place? Instead of going out to dinner?”

“Are you tired?”

Jack’s blue eyes flicker up to look into Gabriel’s face, wide and alluring. He shakes his head.

Gabriel’s soft smile intensifies into something with more teeth. “Then let’s get you home.”

 

 

In his massive bedroom, Gabriel lights the fireplace and pours himself a glass of red wine. He sits in one of the grey easy chairs sipping it, watching Jack in the glass-walled shower, scrubbing off the sweat and makeup from the show. He is uneasy about Jack’s reaction to Ryan. Not jealous—it wouldn’t occur to Gabriel to be jealous that way—but troubled. The boy causes Jack anxiety.

They are likely former lovers. Younger people seem to have a difficult time letting go of emotional connections like that without overcorrecting into outright antipathy. Or perhaps the way the affair ended was particularly painful. This makes the most sense. The idea of a manipulative little minx like Ryan Taylor weaving his webs around Jack sets Gabriel’s teeth on edge.

Ryan is harmless to experienced adults who see through his childish conniving, but Jack is so pure and good. So vulnerable to the twisting, shifting kind of deception that type of manipulator uses. Gabriel’s heart swells with sympathy for the lovely, unworldly young man in his shower, singing blithely to himself as he rinses his pale-blonde hair.

Jack catches him watching and makes a face at him through the steamy glass. Gabriel raises an eyebrow and beckons. Jack laughs, turns off the water, and steps out onto the bath mat, but there isn’t a towel anywhere in sight. He blinks about for a moment, dripping and shivering.

“Jack,” Gabriel says. “Would you like a towel?”

“Y—yes,” Jack chatters. “Where a—are they?”

Gabriel flashes a sly grin and raises the large grey towel he’d been holding in his lap.

“You monster!” Jack laughs, hurrying over with his arms pressed to his chest. “You took it on purpose!”

Gabriel throws the towel around him and pulls him into his lap. “I did. I wanted to make you wait and be cold and wet for a minute.”

“Why?” Jack asks. His tone is simply curious, not annoyed.

“Well, aren’t you enjoying getting warm and dry more than you would have otherwise?”

Jack’s eyes fall closed as Gabriel rubs his body all over with the big, soft towel. He finds he is keenly conscious of the heat from the fireplace and the texture of the terry cloth on his skin.

“Mmmmm,” he hums. “I _am_ enjoying it more.”

“And I like watching you enjoy things, so everyone wins.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you like watching me enjoy things?”

“Because there’s nothing false or jaded or callous about you, Jack. You’re so open and instinctive. The idea of an insincere reaction from you would be absurd.”

“Wait, you like me because I’m so bad at hiding my feelings?”

“No, I like watching you have feelings because you’re bad at hiding them. I like _you_ for a lot of different reasons.”

“Is one of them that I’m really hot?” Jack asks opening an eye. “Cause I am.”

Gabriel smiles. “Sexual attraction is part of it, so yes. I like that you’re hot.”

“I believe I said _really_ hot, Mr. Reyes. Get it right.”

“You’re _really_ hot,” Gabriel says, running his fingernails down Jack’s back where the fire has been heating his skin.

Jack draws his breath in sharply. “Ah! Gabriel! Do—do it again.”

Gabriel obliges, watching Jack’s face as he claws down his back again, harder this time. Jack’s eyes scrunch and his mouth twists in a little grimace of pain. Gabriel’s cock wakes up, swelling and pressing against Jack’s ass through his slacks. Jack feels it and shifts his weight on it as he turns himself to face Gabriel, straddling his thighs. Naked, blonde hair wild and damp, smooth, young body outlined in the glow of the fire, Jack takes Gabriel’s breath away. He lets his eyes slide down Jack’s muscular abdomen to his perfect little cock, standing erect in its golden nest, foreskin circumcised, leaving the round, pink head exposed.

It’s the most beautiful cock he’s ever seen. Flawlessly symmetrical and straight, as if its small size has allowed it to be more refined, and larger cocks are just funhouse-mirror versions of this one, stretched and warped as they swelled to an unnatural size. He wants it so badly. Desires it, lusts after it, wants to touch and tease and kiss and hold it. He closes his eyes to stop himself staring at it, lest he upset Jack and make him self-conscious.

“Gabriel,” Jack says with some trepidation creeping into his voice. “Are…are you ok?”

Gabriel nods. He doesn’t open his eyes. Jack stares at his handsome, scarred face, glowing like burnished copper in the warm firelight. He’d seen Gabriel looking at him. He knows what produced this reaction, but he can’t quite believe it. Yes, Gabriel had called him beautiful, but even then, Jack had assumed that it was _despite_ his meager endowment. Can this powerful, masculine (and generously proportioned) man really be so attracted to his tiny, absurd dick? 

“You can touch me,” he says shyly. “If you want.”

Gabriel’s large, brown-black eyes snap open. There is a fierce, almost animal lust in them that Jack has never seen before. It startles him. Makes his heart leap and run ragged.

“I want to touch you,” Gabriel rasps. His voice is so hoarse with desire, it is almost a growl. “But I’m afraid that if I start, I won’t be able to stop.”

“You…you are?” Jack says.

“I want your cock, Jack,” Gabriel says suddenly, as if he can’t control the words any longer and they are tumbling out on their own. “I want to hold it and taste it and I want to suck it and make you come in my mouth—I…” He pauses and seems to shake himself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said all that.”

Jack’s head feels light and his stomach flutters. He’s afraid, but it’s the good kind of afraid. A keen and trembling anticipation for whatever may happen next. Impulsively, he pushes Gabriel against the back of the easy chair and presses his mouth to his. 

“Suck me,” he breathes. “Suck my cock, Gabriel. Please. I want you to.”

Gabriel’s strong arms curl around his naked body, holding him in a crushing embrace as they kiss.

“Do you mean it, Jack?” Gabriel says softly, when Jack pulls away for another breath. “Do you want me to? Or do you want to let me, because I want to?”

“I don’t…know what the difference is,” Jack says. Then he smiles brightly. “I want to watch you enjoy it.”

Gabriel almost wants to cry at this endearingly earnest response. He laughs instead.

“God, Jack, you’re so fucking amazing. Everything about you is beautiful. Inside and out.”

“Well, you’d know,” Jack grins. “You’ve been inside me.”

Gabriel covers his mouth with another deep, longing kiss, then he gets up, lifting jack with him. Jack wraps his legs around Gabriel’s waist to keep his balance as Gabriel turns and lowers him onto the chair. He lets go and Gabriel kneels in front of him.

“Wait,” Jack says. “You’re still…dressed.”

“Do you want me undressed?”

“Basically always.”

Gabriel gets to his feet and strips off his dark red shirt and black slacks, then his grey briefs. Jack rakes his eyes over the man’s battle-scarred body and gorgeous cock, already half hard and hanging thick and heavy between his muscular thighs. He pushes Jack’s legs apart and kneels between them. Jack’s breath catches in his throat as Gabriel’s hot mouth presses kisses into the skin on his stomach. His whiskers scratch and raise goosebumps all over Jack’s body.

“Jack, I’m going to touch your cock, is that ok?”

Jack nods, digging his fingers into the armrests of the chair and trying not to tense up too much. Gabriel’s big, hot hand closes around his cock, gently squeezing and just barely stroking it.

“I’m going to put my mouth on you now,” Gabriel says.

Jack nods again. He shudders and lets out a low moan as Gabriel’s tongue and mouth tease and caress his balls. Then he cranes his neck to watch as Gabriel’s tongue draws a slow stripe up the shaft of his cock. Then another, then another till Jack is dizzy and his cock is throbbing and drooling in Gabriel’s hand.

“Ha—ah! Holy fuck!” Jack cries out hoarsely.

Gabriel’s tongue has found the swollen, sensitive head and is circling and flicking it. His heart pounds as Gabriel takes him in his mouth in one swallow, all the way to the base, till his chin rests on Jack’s taut, aching sack. He bobs up and plunges down again, sucking Jack into the wet heat of his mouth, moving his tongue along the shaft, then pulling back and sucking him in again. Jack’s cock is hot and rigid, almost painfully hard. His body starts to shake and his stomach muscles contract involuntarily.

Gabriel hums in his throat and sucks him more urgently, driving him headlong toward his rapidly approaching climax. He gives a shuddering wail and clutches Gabriel’s head with both hands, thrusting spasmodically as the pressure bursts and he comes, spewing into the back of Gabriel’s throat in rapid spurts. Gabriel swallows it eagerly, then slowly withdraws.

Jack reaches out his trembling arms and pulls Gabriel down on top of him, then he breaks down weeping into his broad, hard chest. Gabriel holds him and strokes his hair until he is calmer.

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Jack sniffles. “I’m not upset. I don’t—know why I’m crying again.”

“It’s alright, cariño,” Gabriel says softly. “I understand. Thank you for letting me do that for you.”

Jack bursts out laughing through his tears. “Did you just thank me for letting you suck my dick?”

“I did, and I meant it. This was a big step for you. I’m grateful that you wanted to share it with me.”

“I’ve never met anyone like you, Gabriel,” Jack says, gazing up into his face. 

“I guess I’m alright,” Gabriel shrugs. “How are you feeling? Everything ok?”

“I feel like—nevermind,” Jack laughs. “That’s stupid. Yeah, everything’s ok.”

“You can’t say something you feel is stupid, Jack. We made a deal, remember?”

“Yes. I remember.”

“So?”

“So…what?”

“So, what do you feel like?”

“Come on! It’s embarrassing. I don’t want to say it now.”

“I know,” Gabriel says gently. “But you’re going to tell me because I want you to.”

“I feel like…” Jack’s cheeks flush under Gabriel’s intense eyes, and he has to look away. “I feel like everything makes more sense when I’m with you.”

Gabriel gazes at him, as if considering this for a moment. “Jack, I’ve noticed something about you I’d like to talk about, if you don’t mind.”

Jack looks up at him. “What?”

“Well, you usually seem pretty frantic and keyed-up when I first see you. Then after we’re together a while, you relax and you seem much happier.”

“I’m…like that,” Jack says apologetically. “My ADHD makes it hard for me to calm down and process stimuli correctly. I live in a pretty much constant state of panic.”

Gabriel nods. “That’s why you avoid caffeine and alcohol. It’s not about looking good, it’s because you don’t like how those things make you feel.”

“Yeah, but—wait, how did you know?”

“Olivia has ADHD as well. I have enough experience to recognize it when I see it. And I understand how it works and what it does to your brain.”

“Most people don’t understand it at all. They think it just means being hyperactive and disruptive in school. A lot of people don’t even believe it’s real, and if they do, they don’t think it’s a big deal.”

“That’s very unfortunate,” Gabriel frowns. “The fact that a disorder isn’t fatal doesn’t mean it can’t be destructive to your life. Olivia suffered for years with teachers thinking she was rebellious or lazy, or even dyslexic. It took us a long time to develop coping strategies and balance her medication correctly.”

Jack sighs. “Dr. Ziegler wants me to try medication.”

“It doesn’t sound like you want that.”

“I don’t. I don’t want to be dependent on any kind of…substance that way.”

“Hey, if you don’t want to be medicated, that’s one-hundred percent your choice, and I respect it. There are other things that can help you manage it. I’m sure Dr. Ziegler is working with you on that.”

“She is,” Jack nods. “I’ve improved a lot since like, a year ago. I mean, some days are good and some are bad, but overall I’m better.”

“What about when you’re with me?”

“That’s kind of what I meant before. It’s like I can think more clearly and understand things better when I’m with you. I don’t know why that would be, though. That’s why I said it was stupid.”

“It’s ok to describe something without being able to explain it. That’s not stupid, it’s literally how all of science works.” Gabriel leans over and kisses Jack’s cheek. “Come here. I want to hold you.”

Jack lets Gabriel pull him up from the chair and they climb into his big, soft bed. Jack nestles into his chest and listens to his steady, regular heartbeat. He smells like rain in a deep forest and a little bit like tobacco. Not cigarettes, though. More like warm, earthy pipe tobacco. Jack breathes his scent deeply and lets his body melt into Gabriel’s. They lie like that for a little while, enjoying the intimate warmth of simply being naked together. Gabriel wants dearly to just let Jack drift off to sleep in his arms, but there is more he wants to talk about tonight, and he’s determined to get to it.

“Jack,” he says, shaking him softly. “Are you asleep?”

“Nuh-uh,” Jack says drowsily. “But I’m gonna be real soon.”

Gabriel laughs. “Then let’s sit up, lindo, because I’m not finished talking to you yet.”

His chest vibrates with the laugh and tickles Jack’s ear, which makes Jack laugh, too. They sit up cross-legged facing each other. Jack glances down and sneaks a look at Gabriel’s gorgeous cock as he settles himself.

Gabriel arches an eyebrow. “Jack, are you paying attention?”

“Hm? Yes. I’m listening.”

“I’ve talked to you a bit about power exchanges, so you’re familiar with the idea of dominant and submissive partners.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sure you could tell, but I am a natural dominant. It’s just the way that I am. We haven’t agreed to anything, so I’m not _your_ Dom, but I think this aspect of my personality helps you interact comfortably with me. Because your anxiety eases when you feel like I’m in control.”

Jack nods. “It does. I like when you tell me what to do and how things are going to be. It feels good. But…that doesn’t make sense.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you’re in control, that means anything could happen and I couldn’t do anything about it. That should trigger my anxiety—like—big time.” Jack frowns thoughtfully. “So, why doesn’t it?”

“Why do you think it doesn’t?”

“Well…I guess…if you tell me what to do, I don’t have to worry about doing something stupid, which I am always doing. And if you’re in control, then I don’t have to worry about all the things that could go wrong.”

“So, when I give you guidelines, you’re able to calm down and focus better.”

“Yes. I—I think so. You haven’t done that a lot. Have you?”

Gabriel smiles. “Not a lot. You don’t need as much control as you think. You’re very intelligent and capable and self-aware. You just can’t keep your thoughts in order without expending a massive amount of energy on it.”

“That sounds like me, yeah,” Jack says. “It’s…so exhausting sometimes.”

“But if you don’t work vigilantly at it, you lose control, and that’s terrifying to you.”

Jack nods. His throat feels tight and achy, like he’s going to cry again.

“You need a place where you can let go and be free of all that stress, without getting out of control and getting lost. Hence, someone else would have to take the helm. Someone you trust to be looking after your best interests and not using their control to take advantage of you or hurt you.”

Jack’s stomach does flips. The good kind. He’s so close to something, he can almost touch it. Something new and exhilarating and terrifying. His heart pounds and his breathing becomes shallow and rapid.

Gabriel takes his hands and kisses them. “Jack, if you would like to let me do that for you, at least to give it a try and see how you feel about it, I’d be honored.”

Tears. Again. He doesn’t care this time. He’s pressing his wet face against Gabriel’s chest saying please, please, please, and Gabriel is saying yes. Wrapping him up in his strong arms. Pushing him down and blanketing him in the warm, solid weight of his body. For the first time since he can remember, Jack feels really, truly safe.

 

 


	7. Sain et Sauf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kink negotiation, explicit discussions of different types of kink activities, brief mention of urine play.

 

Jack wakes up to sunlight streaming in through the massive windows of Gabriel’s palatial bedroom. Thankfully, the windows face north, so it’s bright and cheerful, but not glaring right into Jack’s eyes. The sun is high in the sky anyway, so it must be midmorning. Jack reaches out his arm and pats the empty space in the bed beside him. He’s a little disappointed, but he hadn’t expected to find Gabriel there. He had told him he’d be getting up early to see Jesse off to school.

In fact, Gabriel had explained rather explicitly last night the majority of what would be happening today, as if he had known that Jack’s anxiety would be significantly reduced if he knew what to expect. He smiles. Of course Gabriel had known that, and of course that’s why he’d done it. He pads across the smooth hardwood floor to the bathroom to relieve his bladder. When he comes out, he notices a little black leather case on the counter with what appears to be a yellow sticky-note attached to it. He ambles over and reads the neat, dense handwriting.

_Jack,_

_I_ _put together a few toiletries we keep around for guests._

_We’ll get you some nicer things of your own later._

_-Gabriel_

Jack unzips the case and finds a disposable razor, a packaged toothbrush, and travel-sized items including toothpaste, mouthwash, a stick of deodorant, and a can of shaving cream. He makes use of the toothbrush, toothpaste, and mouthwash, then he eyes the disposable razor doubtfully. He decides against it. He isn’t working today, and there’s no need to shred his face just to get rid of a little blonde stubble.

He is rinsing his toothbrush when Gabriel comes in carrying two steaming mugs. Jack’s stomach flutters at the sight of the gorgeous, bronze-skinned man behind him in the mirror. Gabriel looks like a god no matter what he’s wearing, but the appearance of comfortable domesticity produced by his black-framed glasses, white t-shirt, and soft, dark-grey pajama pants is particularly devastating.

Jack smiles and turns around. “Morning.”

“Morning, sunshine,” Gabriel says, returning the smile. He holds out one of the mugs. “Coffee?”

“Thank you,” Jack says, accepting it eagerly. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten-thirty. I figured I’d better get you up before noon.”

“Sorry,” Jack says sheepishly. “I’m not really a morning person. I only get up early when Ana makes me.”

“No need to apologize. If I wanted you to get up, I’d have come and gotten you, but you had a big night last night and I wanted you to get some sleep.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Jack grins. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Gabriel says. “We have some important things to talk about today. You want to get dressed?”

“Sure.”

Jack follows him to the walk-in closet, where Gabriel hands him a hanger with a pink v-neck t-shirt and blue jeans on it. He blinks. These are his own clothes from the night before, apparently freshly pressed.

Gabriel notices his confusion and smiles. “I had Céleste take care of them for you, since you don’t have clothes here yet. We’ll have to remedy that later, as well.”

“Clothes here? Yet?”

“It only makes sense that you have something to wear when you stay here. I assume you read my note about the toiletries.”

“I did, thank you. But I have stuff of my own I can bring with me. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“Jack…you don’t understand yet, so I don’t fault you for it,” Gabriel says, with a slight furrow of his brow. “I know you’re only trying to be considerate, but when I want you to have specific things, I will provide those things for you. It’s not that I think you can’t provide for yourself—I know how well you’re doing financially—it’s that I need to do it.”

Jack does not quite understand, but he nods dutifully anyway. Gabriel laughs and kisses him softly on the lips.

“You’ll understand me better soon, I promise,” he says. “Now let’s get dressed and get you some breakfast.”

Jack pulls on his clothing, admiring Gabriel’s muscular body as he dresses himself. He notices that Gabriel has chosen a pair of black slacks and a black button-down, rather than jeans and a t-shirt, which has been his accustomed at-home attire, in Jack’s brief experience.

“Are we going out to breakfast?” Jack asks, as Gabriel puts on a pair of black shoes.

“No, Marie has food waiting for you. I ate earlier with Jesse. I hope you don’t mind. It’s the only way to make sure he actually eats in the morning.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Jack says, making a mental note of the names of the house staff, which he will instantly forget anyway. “I was just wondering why you’re dressed up.”

“Dressed up?” Gabriel looks down at his clothing. “I guess you’re right, this is a little more business than casual. I dress to suit my mood. Black is a power color.”

This last bit is said with a devilish grin that makes Jack’s heart skip a beat. As he follows Gabriel downstairs, he finds himself suddenly trembling with nervousness regarding what exactly this day is going to entail. He watches the smooth, self-assured stride of the man in front of him. Admires the lines of his broad shoulders and the straightness of his back.

Gabriel practically emanates an aura of power. But he’s not the kind of man who seeks to overwhelm others and assert himself. Those kinds of people make Jack anxious. Gabriel’s presence is soothing, instead. He realizes that this is because Gabriel has no need to assert himself. He is what he is and has nothing to prove. Jack is simultaneously envious of this, and deeply attracted by it.

As he sits down at the table, he begins to ask a question about what they’re going to discuss, but Gabriel insists that all of that be left until after he’s eaten, so he can relax and enjoy his breakfast. Jack makes an honest effort, but he finds he’s too nervous to eat very much. He picks at his food till Gabriel laughs and tells him he can stop. Gabriel goes to another room (jack doesn’t know where) and retrieves a pencil and a clipboard containing a beige manila folder.

They move back up to Gabriel’s bedroom to talk, sitting across from one another in the grey easy chairs, and Gabriel sets the clipboard on the coffee table between them. Jack is intensely curious about what it could be and can’t stop himself glancing down at it.

“Jack,” Gabriel laughs. “I can tell that folder is already distracting you. Would you like to know what it is?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jack says, smiling sheepishly. “ADHD.”

“I know, cielito. Normally, I’d require that you keep your eyes on me while we talk, but I know you won’t be able to do it, and I don’t want to set you up to fail. That’s a checklist of things you may or may not be interested in. I’ll ask you to look over it in a little while. Nothing in it is binding, it just serves as a general guideline so I can assess your level of interest in certain activities.”

Jack sits quietly chewing his lip for a moment. “That sounds really complicated.”

“Its purpose is actually to make things less complicated by preventing misunderstandings. It’s pretty standard for this type of thing.”

“Oh. Ok,” Jack says cheerfully.

“So, first, I want to tell you about myself and my experience, and talk a little bit about my assessment of what you need, and what I think will be the best way to proceed.”

Jack nods, fidgeting uncomfortably with his hands.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just…this is starting to seem an awful lot like a job interview.”

“It is an interview of sorts,” Gabriel smiles. “But it’s us interviewing each other. This is not a one-sided thing. I want you to ask me questions, too.”

“What if I don’t know what to ask?”

“That’s why I’m going to start. And remember, this is about learning what you want to explore, so be honest with me. The only wrong answer you can give is a dishonest one.”

Jack nods and folds his hands in his lap like a child at Sunday school, which makes Gabriel laugh again.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Jack,” he says, sighing affectionately. “I wish…well, nevermind. So, I want to explain a little bit about my experience, but I don’t want to overwhelm you with the entire history and language of kink culture, so if I say anything you’re unfamiliar with, stop me and I’ll explain, is that fair?”

“Yes, that’s fair,” Jack says, not knowing what else to say.

“So, there are different types of power exchange relationships. We can learn about all of them later, but the most common types generally fall into Dom/sub, Master/slave, and Daddy/pet or boy. There are other, more extreme types, but those are less common and I find most of them distasteful, so lets leave them out for now. What I am interested in is Dom/sub.”

“Um, Gabriel?” Jack says, raising his hand awkwardly.

“Jack, you don’t have to raise your hand. What is it?”

“What’s the difference between those things?”

Gabriel smiles patiently. “I’ll explain, cariño, but you have to give me a chance.”

“Oh. Oops. Sorry.”

“So, what I am interested in is Dom/sub,” Gabriel begins again. “Masters and Daddies are really just specific types of Doms, anyway. Masters like to own a person and use them like property. Daddies usually like a specific type of sub that is into age or pet play. Are you following so far?”

Jack nods, so Gabriel goes on.

“I have been in power exchange relationships as both a Dom and a sub. I have found that—”

“Wait, wait,” Jack interrupts. “You’ve been a submissive? I can’t believe that.”

“Well, it’s true,” Gabriel says tranquilly.

“But—how? Why? I thought you were a natural dominant.”

“I am. But part of being a good Dom is not asking a sub to undertake something you haven’t experienced yourself. That’d be irresponsible and inconsiderate. I trained as a submissive in order to learn to be a dominant.”

“Oh,” Jack says, somewhat abashed. “Sorry.”

“Jack, that’s three times you’ve apologized for yourself since we’ve been talking. Don’t do it again.”

The barely-detectable edge of sternness in that smooth, sonorous voice startles Jack so that his breath hitches and his face flushes with heat. His eyes dart up to Gabriel’s face, then back down at his hands. Such a slight edge, but so very sharp. If this bare hint of disapproval almost drives him to tears, what will it be like when Gabriel is really angry with him?

“Come here, sweetheart,” Gabriel says gently.

Jack looks up and he is holding out his arms. He obeys and falls into them eagerly, burying his face in Gabriel’s neck and breathing in his warm, masculine scent. Gabriel cradles him and strokes his hair soothingly.

“You don’t understand the difference between correction and anger, do you,” he says, after a moment.

Jack shakes his head.

“Correction is my way of making you aware of a behavior that I dislike, and giving you a guideline to follow in the future.” Gabriel puts a finger under Jack’s chin and gently raises his face so he has to look him in the eye. “I will never correct you out of anger, Jack. We are both adult human beings. If I’m angry with you, we will step out of our roles and talk like equals, do you understand?”

A beat passes, then Jack shakes his head again.

Gabriel suppresses a laugh. “You don’t understand which part?”

“I don’t know, like…any of it,” Jack says, with an exasperated sigh. “I thought this was all about making me behave and punishing me when I’m bad and—”

Gabriel fails to stifle the laugh this time. “When you’re _bad_? Jesus Christ, Jack. You are so sweet, I can hardly stand it. Punishment is an after-the-fact means of correction, yes. But it doesn’t necessarily have to be part of what we do.”

Jack’s face falls. “It doesn’t?”

“Do you want it to be?”

Jack’s cheeks burn and he looks down again, only just mustering the courage to give a slight nod. Gabriel takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, as if pondering something.

“Alright, listen,” he says. “I don’t think you’re prepared to parse all the nuances of power exchange agreements yet. So, let’s try it this way. Let’s go over that list together, which is a lot more fun anyway. Maybe that’ll help you get into the headspace you need to be in to talk about this. Grab the clipboard and pencil. You can sit in my lap while you fill it out, and then we’ll go over it together.”

Jack smiles brightly. This does sound like a lot more fun. He wonders if cock cages will be on the list. He retrieves the things and hands the clipboard to Gabriel, who opens the folder and lays the list on top of it, attached to the clipboard. He pats his knee and Jack sits sideways in his lap, with his legs over the arm of the chair.

“There are varying degrees of interest,” Gabriel says. “But an easy system for now is yes, maybe, no. So, write a Y, M, or N next to each item as you go through. Anything you’re not sure about, put a question mark. This is not an exhaustive list, mind you, but it covers most of the basics. If there’s something you want to add, write it at the bottom when you think of it.”

Jack nods and furrows his brow in concentration as he begins going down the list. Gabriel watches those brilliant blue eyes, widening or narrowing in response to each thing the young man reads. When Jack draws the pencil back and absently pokes his bottom lip with the eraser, Gabriel feels a warm swell of almost aching tenderness pooling in his chest. This is it, he thinks suddenly. Jack is the one. But he’s so young and they’ve been seeing each other for such a short time. He can’t already be falling in love with him.

_Oh fuck, I’m falling in love with him._

As if he has read his mind, Jack lifts his long eyelashes and and looks up into Gabriel’s eyes with a shy smile. “I don’t know what a St. Andrew’s cross is.”

“It’s like, a big wooden X with straps or shackles and it’s used to restrain a submissive for play. It’s pretty gentle as far as bondage goes, and fairly comfortable.”

“Oh, ok,” Jack says.

Gabriel smiles as Jack draws a thick line through the word “stocks,” then writes a Y beside “Bondage (St. Andrew’s cross/stocks).”

So far, Jack’s list appears as so:

Abrasion ?

Age play N

Anal plugs Y

Anal plugs worn in public (under clothing) M

Ball spreaders N

BDSM relationship (non-romantic) N

BDSM relationship (romantic) Y

BDSM relationship (non-exclusive) N

BDSM relationship (exclusive) Y

Blindfolds Y

Bondage (cuffs/rope/shackles/etc.) Y

Bondage (St. Andrew’s cross/ ~~stocks~~ ) Y

Breath Play M

Caning M

Chastity Devices Y

Choking Y

He pauses again at “Cock Worship.” Gabriel explains, and an enthusiastic Y is placed beside it.

Cock Worship Y

Collars M

Costumes/masks M

Crawling M

Cross-dressing N

Cutting N

Depilation N

Electricity M

Enemas N

Exhibitionism M

Face slapping M

Jack wrinkles his nose and looks up at Gabriel. “Fantasy…rape?”

Gabriel shrugs. “It’s a lot more common a fantasy than you’d expect. I don’t think it’s particularly healthy, but as long as both partners are consenting and all safety measures are observed, it’s not anyone’s business how two adults like to get each other off.”

“Well, as long as I don’t have to hear about it,” Jack shudders, returning to his list.

Fantasy rape N

Feathers/fur N

Fire N

Fisting N

Foot worship N

Full-head hoods M

Gags M

Genital torture N

Guided Masturbation ?

Hair-pulling Y

Harnesses ?

Humiliation M

Infantilism/diapers N

Kneeling Y

Latex clothing Y

Leashes/leads M

Lingerie N

“Jack,” Gabriel interjects. “Why have you put an N beside lingerie?”

Jack flushes crimson. “I…I don’t like things that are intended to treat me like I’m not a man.”

“Cariño, cross-dressing is a separate thing. In reference to you, this means male lingerie.”

“Male lingerie?”

“Sexy underclothing made for men. If it’s still a hard no, I respect that, but I wanted to be certain we’re clear on what it means before you decide.”

The faint flush of color in Gabriel’s cheeks and his controlled manner of speaking give Jack a little thrill. This must be a particular weakness of his.

“Well, I don’t know,” he says teasingly. “You’d have to show me some, first.”

Gabriel grins. “Oh, I will.”

Jack erases his N and almost replaces it with a Y, then he pauses and writes an M. Gabriel laughs and gives him a squeeze with those powerful arms.

Medical scenes N

Mummification (plastic wrap/body bags/strait jackets) N

Multiple penetration (multiple partners) N

Multiple penetration (toys) M

Nipple clamps M

Orgasm denial/control M

Outdoor sex M

Piercings N

Praise ?

Public humiliation N

Public sex (concealed) M

Public sex (for audience) M

Puppy/Kitty play M

Sensory deprivation ?

Sounding ?

Spanking (hand) Y

Spanking (paddle/belt) Y

Spreader bars ?

Suspension (rope) ?

Suspension (hook) ?

Swallowing semen (Dom’s) Y

Swallowing semen (own) M

Swapping/Swinging N

Temperature play (ice/hot wax) M

Tickling N

Uniforms M

Verbal humiliation N

Vibrators/dildos Y

Voyeurism ?

Water Sports ?

Whipping (flogger/whip/riding crop) M

“All done!” Jack chirps, handing the clipboard to Gabriel.

“Excellent.” Gabriel scans the list for a moment. “Alright, let’s start with your question marks. Abrasion. Abrasion is a term for applying something that has a rough surface to the skin for sensitization. It can be anything from a boar-bristle brush up to coarse-grit sandpaper.”

“Oh…well, I can’t have like, cuts and marks on me. Bruises are ok, but scrapes and cuts work badly with makeup.”

“But you’re not opposed to the sensitization aspect?” Gabriel asks. Jack shakes his head. “Good, I’ll change that to Y and make a note.”

Gabriel explains harnesses and guided masturbation, both of which are moved to the yes category.

“Next is praise,” he says.

Jack nods. “Yeah, I don’t really know what that means in this context.”

“Pretty much the same as other contexts, except it’s specifically related to the Dom verbally acknowledging when the sub has pleased them.”

“Oh, I like that a lot,” Jack grins. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“You’d be surprised. A lot of subs respond badly to praise because it breaks the Dom’s character for them. We’ll call that a yes, then. I’m glad, too. I like seeing your face light up the way it does when I say those things to you.”

Jack is inclined to be embarrassed by Gabriel’s apparent ability to read everything he feels in his face, but a soft kiss on his lips obliterates the idea and makes his chest feel full and warm, instead. Gabriel explains sensory depravation next. Jack likes the idea of shutting out distracting stimuli immensely, and this is moved to the yes group.

“Sounding. This is the insertion of a sound into the urethra for sexual stimulation. It should only be done with sterile instruments, and ideally by someone who is experienced.”

“But what is a sound?” Jack wants to know.

“Sounds are small rods that vary in gauge, often made of surgical steel. There are glass ones, but I won’t use them. The risk is far too high to be worth it.”

“Is sounding…something you like?” Jack says timidly.

“It’s something I have enjoyed performing and receiving, yes.”

“Ok. Can we call it a tentative yes?”

“Sure,” Gabriel smiles. “I’ll put it in the Y category with a note.”

Spreader bars and rope suspension follow, each receiving a Y, and hook suspension gets a hard N.

“Voyeurism. That means watching your Dom or your Dom watching you while one of you participates in a sexual activity with another partner.”

Jack shakes his head emphatically. His spine tenses and he looks immediately distressed. Gabriel pulls him into his arms again and squeezes him tight.

“Jack, why did that bother you so much?” he says gently.

“I don’t want to see you having sex with someone else,” Jack says, growing more agitated. His voice begins to quiver warningly. “Why would I want that? Why would I want to know I’m not enough for you and also have to look at it? It’s cruel and it makes me sick thinking about it.”

“Shhh, hush mi sol,” Gabriel purrs, stroking his hair. “Just breathe and listen to my voice. It’s ok.”

He holds him close as Jack breathes through the sick, cold knot in the pit of his stomach. His racing heartbeat gradually slows and levels, and he stops trembling.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten so upset about it,” he says, fidgeting with his hands.

Gabriel takes them and holds them. “I don’t want you to hide it when something makes you upset. That was clearly triggering for you, and it’s crucial that I know about those things. If I don’t, I can’t create a safe space for you.”

“I know. It’s just…this is hard for me, Gabriel. I’ve never had to talk like this with someone and it’s embarrassing.”

“Does that make you feel unsafe?”

Jack bites his lip and considers this. “No, not unsafe. I think exposed is a better word. And vulnerable.”

“Do you dislike feeling exposed and vulnerable?”

Jack looks up into Gabriel’s dark-brown eyes. He wants to _beg_ Gabriel to make him feel exposed and vulnerable. He opens his mouth, but decades of shame crush his voice before he can make a sound. He can’t bring himself to say it.

“I see,” Gabriel says, with a soft smile. “Jack, I told you not to apologize for yourself again. It was not a request.”

Jack stares at him, blue eyes widening. This is something important. Terrifying. Thrilling. He can feel his pulse pounding in his ears.

“I—you…what?” he manages to stammer.

“I told you not to apologize for yourself again.” Gabriel’s voice is serious, but not unkind. “There will be a consequence now.”

Jack swallows hard. “What kind of…consequence?”

“I’ll decide after we finish your list, since your responses will obviously impact what I choose. Also I want to make you wait and anticipate it.”

“But…why?”

“Because I enjoy it.”

Jack searches Gabriel’s handsome, austere face, but finding no hint of an intent to elaborate, he forces his eyes back to his list. Gabriel picks up where they left off.

“Almost done. Watersports.”

“Yeah, what do watersports have to do with kink stuff?” Jack says, relieved to have the focus diverted for the moment.

“It’s a misleading term, if you don’t know the language. It generally means play with nonsexual bodily fluid. Namely, urine.”

Jack wrinkles his nose and Gabriel writes an N beside it.

“Let’s move on to your maybes. Well, actually…Jack, almost the entire list is maybes,” Gabriel laughs. “Let’s do your Nos first. There are a lot fewer of those.”

He looks pleased by this and Jack beams under the approval as Gabriel reads through the list.

“Alright,” he says, after a moment, “You have public and verbal humiliation as no, but you’ve got public sex for an audience and exhibitionism as maybes.”

Jack flushes with embarrassment. “Are those the same? It didn’t seem like they implied the same idea…to me.”

“They’re not necessarily the same, and it’s very astute that you picked up on the nuance. We’ll have to talk about what those things mean in more detail later. The rest of your no items pretty much align with what I expected. I wouldn’t want to do depilation or cutting or piercing anyway, but it’s especially important with your career that you not be physically altered like that. Let’s see. Hm. Jack, you have maybes beside leashes/leads and puppy/kitty play. Was that intentional?”

“Um. Yeah.”

“Really?” Gabriel says, raising an eyebrow.

Jack laughs nervously. “What?”

“I’m impressed,” Gabriel smiles. “You’re open to new and varied experiences. That’s an excellent frame of mind.”

“Well…hesitantly open. I just…like the idea of…” Jack’s face turns red and he buries it in Gabriel’s shoulder.

Gabriel reaches up and strokes his hair, carding his fingers through it. When he reaches the back of Jack’s head, his hand tightens into a fist. Jack gives an audible gasp as Gabriel uses his grip on his hair to lift his head and make him look into his face. He stares at Gabriel, pupils blown wide, panting through parted lips.

“You like the idea of what?” Gabriel says evenly.

“Of…of b—being your pet,” Jack sputters.

His cock is wide awake and throbbing, straining against his tight jeans. His eyes roll closed as Gabriel pulls his head firmly backward, exposing his throat and making him arch his back against the arm of the chair. He runs his other hand down Jack’s stomach to his crotch, and gives his cock a squeeze that makes Jack buck and groan.

“I see that,” he murmurs. “You’ll make such a pretty little pet, too.”

Jack doesn’t respond. He hears Gabriel, but his mind is gone, blissed out in some ascendant state, like nothing he’s ever experienced before. When Gabriel lifts him back up and loosens his grip, Jack actually whines in his throat.

“Jack, are you ok?” Gabriel smiles. “Where’d you go?”

“I…don’t know,” Jack breathes, flopping forward into Gabriel’s chest. “Somewhere good.”

“I guess that’s why hair-pulling is a yes. I’ll be sure to remember that. As far as the rest of this goes, we can talk about these things as they come up. Except one that we need to address now. That is, what type of relationship you want this to be. I see you’ve marked non-romantic and non-exclusive as no and romantic and exclusive as yes.”

Jack pushes his face further into the crook of Gabriel’s neck and nods.

“So, you’d like this to be a romantic, exclusive power-exchange relationship?”

Jack nods again.

“I need you to look at me and I need to hear you say yes or no verbally. This is a very important decision point.”

Jack lifts his head and looks shyly up into Gabriel’s eyes.

“Jack, this isn’t a game to me. You understand that if you agreed to terms like this, you would be agreeing to a romantic, exclusive relationship with me, correct?”

“Yes, I understand,” Jack says, with commendable steadiness considering the way he’s quaking internally.

“Alright. Good,” Gabriel says. “Now we can talk about those things I brought up before. I have been a dominant and a submissive, as I told you, but I have never taken on a submissive as a romantic partner.”

“Wait, what?” Jack says, taken aback. “What do you mean? How do you be a dominant without a submissive partner?”

“I am…known in a certain community,” Gabriel says slowly. “People make requests of me. Based on a number of factors and my personal preference, I agree to fulfill them, or not. Usually, these people are couples who need an experienced DM to help them with a difficult or higher-risk scene, or who want to learn something they can do together. Sometimes submissives without a current Dom make requests of me.”

“You…have sex with them?”

“No, not normally. These people come to me because they are in need of the psychological and emotional release they get from some particular activity, and I can help them achieve that.”

“But why do you do it?” Jack says, becoming agitated again. “Why would you want to?”

“I don’t want to do it, I _need_ to do it,” Gabriel says. “I’ve told you that this is not a game to me. I am a dominant and to some extent, a sadist. It’s an emotional and psychological release for me, too.”

“A—a sadist?”

“A person who derives pleasure or satisfaction from inflicting pain.”

Jack shakes his head, trying to wrap his mind around what he is hearing. He gets up from Gabriel’s lap and begins to pace. Gabriel remains seated, watching him carefully.

Jack stops and crosses his arms. “So you have this…secret life where you tie people up and whip them? Is that what you’re saying?”

“To paint it with an unfairly broad brush, yes,” Gabriel says quietly.

He looks hurt and Jack immediately regrets his words, but he’s too worked up now, and he can’t bring himself to apologize.

“And you don’t _normally_ have sex with these people,” he says. “So, sometimes you do?”

“Once. It was a serious error on my part and I paid for it.”

“How? What do you mean?” Jack demands.

“Jack, come here and kneel,” Gabriel says, in a tone that leaves no room for argument.

Jack finds himself obeying without hesitation. He kneels down on the floor before him and Gabriel pushes his head down onto his thigh. To his astonishment, Jack finds himself feeling instantly calmer. He takes a deep breath and sighs slowly, relaxing his body into the unfamiliar position.

“That’s better,” Gabriel says, stroking his hair. “You’re much happier this way, aren’t you.”

This is clearly not a question, however, and Jack doesn’t reply.

“Jack, I am sharing things about myself with you that I understand may be difficult for you to hear,” Gabriel continues. “You are free to express your concerns or your dislike for what I do, but you will do so respectfully. Not because I’m a dominant, but because I’m a human being, and I deserve the same respect you do. Do you understand?”

Jack nods.

“Good. I provide these services to people because I choose to. If you and I were to agree to an exclusive relationship and this is something that would be upsetting for you, I would stop doing it.”

“You don’t have to,” Jack blurts out suddenly, as much to his own surprise as Gabriel’s. Gabriel draws his hand away and Jack lifts his head to look up at him. “You don’t have to stop doing it. If you don’t want to, I mean.”

“Jack, I don’t understand,” Gabriel says, furrowing his heavy brow. “This is quite a one-eighty from a moment ago.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jack says, apologetically. “I kind of freaked out, but now my head feels clearer. I can’t explain how my brain works. But your…the thing you do…it sounds like it’s an important part of who you are. I don’t think I could live with myself knowing that you gave it up for me.”

“But Jack, I’m saying that I’d give it up for you willingly,” Gabriel says cautiously. “To make you happy. Because you’re worth it.”

Jack shakes his head firmly. “I don’t want you to have sex with other people. I want that all to myself. I don’t care if it’s selfish, I want you to only be with me that way. But I don’t want you to change because you think it’ll make me happy. I want to be with you how you _are_. I want to be with…all of you.”

Gabriel closes his eyes and rests his chin on his thumbs with his fingers steepled, as if deep in thought. Jack waits silently, gazing up at him.

“I’m afraid, Jack,” he says, after a long pause. His voice is hoarse and unaccustomedly strained. “I want to share that with you, but I’m afraid that you’ll be repulsed by this other side of me and that…I’ll lose you.”

“No, no, no,” Jack says urgently. He pushes himself up from his knees and throws his arms around Gabriel’s neck. “Please don’t say that, Gabriel. I want you to share that with me. I’m sorry I was an asshole, I was just shocked and I needed to adjust to the idea. My mind is weird like that.”

Gabriel laughs, in spite of himself. “Your mind is a little weird. But I like you that way.”

“You like me _because_ I’m weird,” Jack says chirpily. “Besides, you’re not in any position to judge. You’re way weirder than me.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” Gabriel grins. “Wait till you see my DM costume.”

 

 

 


	8. La Cage Aux Folles

“Ah! Gabriel!” Jack digs his fingernails into the seat cushion, tears streaming down his face. “It hurts so much!”

“What’s your color?” Gabriel replies calmly, staying his hand midair.

“Green,” Jack pants. “I’m—I’m ok. It just hurts.”

“I know, cariño. Punishments are supposed to hurt. You’re doing so well. Just five more.”

Jack nods and braces himself just in time for Gabriel’s heavy palm to land another strident slap on his tender, rosy-pink ass.

“S—ah! Six!”

“Tell me why are you being punished.”

“Because I was told—ah! Seven! I was told not to apologize for myself and—fuck! Eight!—and I did it again.”

“Very good,” Gabriel says. “And are you going to disobey me again?”

“No!” Jack gasps, then corrects himself. “I—I’ll try my best not to.”

“Good. That’s all I expect. These last two are going to hurt the most, but then you’ll be all done.”

The approval in Gabriel’s voice sends a warm glow of satisfaction through Jack’s body, despite the humbling position in which he finds himself: naked, bent over the arm of the grey easy-chair, with his elbows resting on the seat cushion, bare ass presented to his lover. Gabriel’s hand comes down again, quite a bit harder this time.

“N—nine!”

Gabriel pauses, gazing adoringly at his beautiful blonde angel, savoring the tense anticipation as Jack waits for the final blow. It lands at last, striking Jack’s raw, bright-pink flesh like a thunderclap.

“Ah…aaaah! Ten!” Jack wails. “Fuck! Ten!”

“All done,” Gabriel says, laying a soothing hand on the small of Jack’s back. “You did very well, mi sol. I’m so proud of you. How are you feeling?”

“I’m—shaky. But I’m ok,” Jack sniffles. He takes a long, trembling breath. “You were right, though. Spanking isn’t always fun.”

Gabriel laughs softly. “No, not always. Come with me, baby.” He takes Jack’s hands and helps him stand on wobbly legs, then guides him to his bed. “Lie on your stomach. I want to admire my work.”

Jack climbs clumsily into Gabriel’s big, soft bed and flops facedown into the pillows. Gabriel sits on the edge of the bed beside him and strokes his back, raising goosebumps all over Jack’s smooth, sunkissed skin.

“You turn such pretty shades of pink, cariño,” he says. “And you took your punishment so well, I think you deserve a reward.”

Jack lifts his head and blinks blearily up at him. “Is it…an ice pack?”

Gabriel laughs aloud and kisses Jack’s forehead. “No, baby. If you want something to soothe the burn, I’ll get you a cool washcloth. Would you like one?”

“No, no,” Jack says anxiously. “Please don’t go anywhere. Please just keep touching me. I…I need you to.”

“Of course,” Gabriel smiles. He traces gentle circles over Jack’s shoulders with his fingertips. “When I was spanking you, did you feel like I hit you too hard?”

Jack shakes his head.

“Hard enough?”

Jack squints thoughtfully. “Well…I didn’t enjoy it, but I think I could take more if I had to.”

“When you say you didn’t enjoy it, do you mean because it hurt, or because you disliked the way it made you feel.”

“Because it hurt,” Jack says decidedly. “I liked the fact that it was happening. And I like knowing it happened. And I like thinking you might do it again. Is that ok?”

“Your honest feelings and reactions are always ok, Jack. The way you _express_ your feelings and reactions might be up to certain protocol we agree upon, but honesty will always be my number-one requirement.”

Jack’s ears perk up. He has heard of kink agreements before. “Are you and me going to have, like…a contract?”

“No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Unless you’d be more comfortable with one.”

Jack shrugs. “I don’t care one way or another. I just thought that’s how people did these things.”

“Every vanilla relationship is unique, and it’s the same way with power-exchange relationships. We can draw one up any time if you decide you want one, but I’d prefer mutual trust and lots of open communication for now.”

“Ok.”

“So, your reward…I wonder what that should be.”

“Can it be something where you’re naked?”

“You want my cock already, baby? With your ass all sore from your spanking?”

Jack smiles up at him and bites his bottom lip.

Gabriel grins. “Such a slut.”

“Only for you.” Jack drawls, arching his back languidly, like a cat stretching in a sunbeam.

“Goddamn right, only for me,” Gabriel grunts. He slides his hand down and squeezes Jack’s ass, making him yelp and wince. “See? I don’t think you’re ready to be fucked yet.”

Jack scoots over and rests his head on Gabriel’s thigh, intending to pout, but finding he is far too happy, and sighing contentedly instead.

“Gabriel?” he says, after a moment.

“Yes, Jack?”

“Will you tell me about your…domination stuff?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Well…I guess I don’t understand how it works. How do you get requests from people? And do you like, go to their houses, or what?”

“Ah, I see,” Gabriel says. “No, I don’t go to people’s houses. I am a member of a highly exclusive club here in the city. Mel and I are founding members, in fact. We began it with several of our close friends because we had all been unsatisfied with the quality and clientele of other clubs for so-inclined people. A friend of ours owns a few other successful nightclubs in the city, so he handled choosing the space and hiring staff. We all consulted on the layout and design and we drew up the rules and procedures together, with the help of another founder who is an attorney.

In order to keep the club private and filter out unsavory characters, membership is required for entry. The policies are different for dominants and submissives, though. We wanted the club to be a safe space for unattached subs to come and play, or to socialize with other subs, or even to find a Dom. So, submissives are granted temporary membership for a nominal fee each time they visit, like a cover charge. Dominants have to be dues-paying members to get in, and must provide references and pass a background check in order to join.”

“Do people actually do that? It sounds like a lot of hoops to jump through.”

Gabriel smiles. “A few. We currently have one-hundred and fifty dues-paying dominants in our membership roster.”

“Holy shit,” Jack says, finding himself increasingly curious about this secret society of kinky people. “How amazing is this club?”

Gabriel laughs. “It is a very nice place, but it’s the people that make it amazing. Our membership all grew from word-of-mouth. We don’t advertise ourselves to the public.”

“Why not?”

“Many of our members are fairly high-profile individuals who would prefer to keep their whips and chains under the proverbial radar. We have strict rules regarding confidentiality.”

“Are those even…enforceable? How do you keep people from ignoring the rules and blabbing about it anyway?”

“Well, it’s not as if they can’t tell their friends. As I said, our membership grew from word-of-mouth. The confidentiality rules are to protect our members from being exposed by other members to their families or colleagues, or to the press. If someone did break our rules, it would be pretty immediately clear who the culprit was, and they’d find themselves at the business end of a legal action by a very prominent law firm, not to mention ostracized from the community.”

“Has it ever come up?”

“No, it hasn’t. We have a pretty excellent clientele.”

“But hang on, if only dues-paying members have to agree to the rules, then what if a submissive that came in one night saw someone they recognized and told people about it?”

“It would be the same. Since their temporary membership means that during their time in attendance at the club, they were in fact dues-paying members, they are bound by the same agreement. The BDSM community is isn’t one you want to fuck around with regarding contracts and rules. We’re kind of experts in those particular areas.”

“So, what kinds of things do you do? At the club?”

“It runs sort of like a high-end dungeon. There’s a bar that serves excellent beverages and hors d'oeuvres, since refreshment is often necessary for our guests. We don’t allow alcohol to be consumed by anyone participating in a scene till after they have finished, though. Safety reasons.”

“A scene?”

“Ah, right. You don’t know how a dungeon operates.” He observes the look of embarrassment on Jack’s face and smiles. “I don’t mean to make you feel ignorant, Jack. I just forget how new you are to all of this, since you’ve taken to it so naturally. A scene can be anything from a Shibari demonstration, to a bullwhipping by our Whipmaster, to a hook suspension, to a class on tantric orgasms, to a Master lining up a row of fucking machines and setting them to work on his slaves for the spectators’ entertainment. It depends on who has reserved time for a particular evening.”

“Everything has to be done…in front of an audience?”

“There are rooms for private scenes, too, in case exhibition isn’t one of the Dom’s requirements, but a Dungeon Master has to be present even in a private scene, if the activity is deemed high-risk.”

Jack blinks for a moment, absorbing and digesting all of this. He still can’t imagine Gabriel as one of those leather-clad, riding-crop-wielding people from the fetish photos he’s seen.

“But, Gabriel, what do you do? What kind of…scenes?”

“I only do public scenes now, but I have done a lot of different things. I specialize in restraint and impact.”

“Restraint and impact?”

“Tying up and whipping,” Gabriel grins. “Chest and genital bondage, rope suspension, flogging, spanking, all of that. I also do gagging, clamping, wax, and electrical.”

“Jesus, electrical?” Jack asks incredulously. “That’s real?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. Mostly people want to use violet wands, which are pretty tame, shock-wise.”

“So…why do you only do public scenes?”

“I told you how I’ve only had sex with a submissive once as part of an agreed scene. That incident is the reason.”

Jack’s stomach drops. He’d figured that the two things were related, but hearing it confirmed doesn’t alleviate his anxiety about it.

“If you don’t want to tell me—” he begins.

“No, I do. You have every right to know things like this, especially if we are trying to build an open, trusting relationship.” Gabriel sighs and massages his brow with one hand. “This…doesn’t cast me in the best light, but I’m human and I make mistakes. This happened to be a very big one.

There was a couple, a cis-hetero husband and wife, who were members of the club in good standing. The wife was the Dom and she’d brought her husband, the sub, to me multiple times for punishments she couldn’t perform because they required quite a bit of physical strength. We developed a good, friendly rapport, and got comfortable with each other’s limits and preferences. I liked them personally, too. They were kind and funny and fun to work with…anyway, they came to me and asked if I’d be interested in helping them with a different kind of scene.

To preface, humiliation was this guy’s thing. He was very into it. They had been talking about her watching him be penetrated by another man as part of their humiliation play, and they wanted to do it. They came to me because they trusted me and didn’t want to bring someone new into something so intimate. The husband was a straight guy, mind you. He’d never had sexual contact with a man. But they’d been watching a lot of FemDom MMF porn—which, by the way, is not a good place to go for instruction—and he really wanted to try it.

I should have picked up on the fact that he seemed to be driving the situation, but she did most of the talking, so I just…missed the cues. I liked them and trusted them, too, so we wrote up a fantastically thorough agreement which basically choreographed the entire scene, so there would be no surprises—nothing that would catch anyone off-guard—and they reserved a private room for a scene.

It began well. She watched and talked to him while I tied him up and beat him with floggers and things, then we both stretched him and got him prepped. She’d been pegging him for years, so he wasn’t new to anal penetration, and all of that went smoothly. It was my requirement that he explicitly see that I was wearing a condom, so she put the condom on me while he watched.

Then she took over beating him and slapping his face, and talking shit to him about how he liked to have his pussy fucked by a real man—all the standard stuff—while I fucked him. As part of our arrangement, he wasn’t supposed to come without her permission, which was their usual rule anyway, and she was supposed to take over for me when he was close. Only, he didn’t warn me that he was going to come. He just tightened up all the sudden and came without saying a word.

I stopped and asked her what to do, obviously. She decided she wanted him to lick all his come off the bench and swallow it while I finished fucking him. We did that, and everything went ok, but it felt…weird to me. I didn’t like it. During our aftercare talk, I said frankly that I felt he’d betrayed her trust in a pretty careless and inexcusable way, but she laughed it off and said she’d punish him later. Apparently she wasn’t as ok with it as she seemed to be.

A few weeks later, he showed up to the club alone, looking like absolute shit and clearly in distress. He said she’d decided that she was going to take on some more obedient subs as his punishment, and had made him watch while she fucked some other men. He was totally wrecked over it, and he’d left her was filing for divorce. I was sympathetic, but it became very quickly clear that he blamed me. I reminded him of our agreement and told him that whatever had happened after that was between him and his wife.

So, he appealed to the club to ban me for unwanted sexual contact. Mel and the other owners sat down with the three of us in private and questioned us and examined our agreement. It was a fucking nightmare. The wife was humiliated and angry, which she had every right to be, but she was excessively verbally cruel to him. It came out during the proceeding that she hadn’t particularly wanted to watch him being fucked by a man, but he’d been wearing her down until she agreed, and they’d asked me. Her making him watch her fuck other subs was her way of getting revenge, I guess.

Obviously, the other owners found that he had been the one at fault for violating the terms of our agreement. We voted on a ruling, and the result was that the wife and husband were both banned, since she’d been his Dom at the time and should have been more vigilant in controlling the situation. I voted against banning them, but I was the only one.

So, I don’t do private scenes anymore, because I don’t even want to be _asked_ to do something like that again. I know logically that I wasn’t to blame for their relationship problems, but I haven’t been able to shake the guilt I have over being part of something that contributed to the destruction of a marriage.”

“Jesus Christ, Gabriel,” Jack says, after a long pause. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but those people sound like total nutjobs. I can’t believe that asshole accused you of unwanted sexual contact. What the fuck.”

“I don’t think he was really in is right mind at that point,” Gabriel replies diplomatically. “He’d left his wife, which is a huge fucking deal already, but that also meant he’d left his Dom. I’m sure he was feeling very lost and chaotic.”

“Still, that’s incredibly shitty for him to react by what amounts to a false accusation of rape. What about real victims who are constantly having people accuse them of lying, and pointing to the rare case of false reporting to delegitimize their suffering? It’s sick.”

“You’re right, Jack. I know you’re right. But it’s all over now, and I’d rather try to focus on what I learned from the experience and let it go.”

“What did you learn from it?”

“Well, for one, I learned that no matter how you try to codify it with legal language and pre-agreed terms, the sex act itself is a very volatile thing that creates highly unpredictable emotional reactions. There is no safe sex outside a caring, intimate relationship.”

“Is that why you don’t do the casual sex thing?”

Gabriel nods. “One of the reasons, aside from medical safety and other practical concerns. Mostly it’s because I can’t really be into fucking someone without context. I guess I’m more like a woman that way. Or maybe my years of BDSM have altered my psychology. I want the whole experience—physical, mental, emotional—all of it. Without that context, sex with another person is just exercising an animal need on another body. I’m not interested in that.”

“I haven’t had much sex without context either,” Jack says thoughtfully. “My dick thing makes me pretty wary of exposing myself to strangers.”

“Definitely don’t expose yourself to strangers, baby,” Gabriel laughs. “That’s how you get arrested. But that’s an interesting sentiment coming from a man who lets people take his picture for a living.”

“Is it? I never thought of it that way. I mean, I know I’m constantly half-naked in front of a group of strangers. I know what I look like and I know other people like looking, but I don’t feel…exposed when they do, you know?”

“Do you think you don’t feel exposed in those situations _because_ your body is exposed?”

Jack blinks. “I don’t understand.”

“You told me that your body, this physical thing that isn’t really you, as you put it, is all you’re worth to people. I think you detach your sense of self from it to the point that it’s like a suit of armor for you. If people are looking at your body and judging your body, the real you is safe.”

“That’s a way to put it,” Jack says slowly. “But…you look at me. The real me. And I feel safe with you.”

“Jack, you’ve said that before.” Gabriel’s brow knits. “The first time we went out, when I came to your apartment. I said I’d leave if you didn’t feel safe and you said you felt totally safe with me.”

Jack reaches up and touches Gabriel’s face. “Was that wrong? You seem upset.”

“No, I’m not upset. I just…I’m not entirely sure you understand what that means to me. How powerful that idea is to me.”

“Powerful?”

“Yeah,” Gabriel says, taking Jack’s hand and kissing it. “What I need most, in order to feel fulfilled, is to have my lover’s absolute trust and for him to feel completely safe with me. Not just unthreatened in general, the way we feel about anyone we know isn’t a psychopath or a serial killer. I mean really safe.”

“I do, Gabriel,” Jack says earnestly. “I’ve never been so comfortable with someone, and I’ve never felt as safe as I do with you. I showed you my dick the first time we talked. Do you understand what that meant to _me_? To already feel like I could trust you that much?”

“Yes,” Gabriel says. His voice is rough with emotion. “I do understand what that meant to you. And how important it was that you trusted me to touch you and—”

He breaks off and turns away. Jack pulls himself up onto his knees and taking Gabriel’s face between his hands, he turns his head gently to look into his long-lashed, dark-brown eyes. They are glassy, as if he’s been fighting back tears.

“Gabriel, I trust you,” Jack says, holding Gabriel’s gaze with his. “I trust you. I feel safe with you.”

He doesn’t say any more. Gabriel’s mouth is already covering his in a deep, desperate, ferocious kiss, fingers threaded into Jack’s hair, pushing him down on his back and pinning him beneath his hard, heavy body. Jack’s tender ass protests the sudden pressure, but he enjoys the sensation. Enjoys knowing that Gabriel beat his ass raw, and feeling the evidence of it as Gabriel prepares to fuck him raw, too. He hopes he’ll fuck him hard. Make it hurt. Maybe he should just ask.

“Gabriel,” he says timidly. “I want you to—to hurt me.”

“I know, baby,” Gabriel murmurs. “I will.”

He kisses him again, more tenderly this time, then draws away.

“Jack, I’d like you to try something for me,” he says. “It’s going to be uncomfortable, though.”

Jack is already nodding, blue eyes wide and eager. “Yes, yes, anything.”

Gabriel smiles. Of course, the “anything” implies any of the yes items on Jack’s list, and he knows that Jack understands that. The younger man’s unhesitating trust is so beautiful, it nearly breaks his heart. One day, it may actually break his heart. But if that is the price of this stolen taste from the well of the gods, then so be it. Jack is worth it.

“Come here, cielito,” he says, holding out his hand. Jack takes it and Gabriel pulls him to his feet. He points to the wall of windows. “Go kneel. Put your forehead on the window and your hands on your head. Do not move until I give you permission.”

Gabriel watches him obey, crossing to the window, dropping to his knees, forehead pressed against the glass. His muscular shoulders tense as he places his hands on the back of his blonde head. Beautiful. Reluctantly, Gabriel tears himself away from the vision of the gorgeous, naked young man and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

Jack watches his breath spread a thin circle of mist on the window, expanding as he exhales, contracting as he inhales. His hard cock touches the cold glass and makes him shiver. He waits, his body humming with anticipation for what Gabriel is going to do to him. He waits…and waits. It seems to be taking a very long time. After a while, his knees begin to feel stiff and sore. He has just begun to grow irritable, when his arms start to burn and tremble. Then he has no energy to devote to being annoyed, as it takes all his mental and physical effort to keep his arms up in this position. He is breathing hard and grimacing with the pain, when a touch makes him nearly jump out of his skin.

“Gabriel!” he gasps. “Holy shit, you scared me! I didn’t hear you come back.”

“I know, mi sol,” Gabriel laughs, bending down to kiss the top of Jack’s head. “I’ve been watching you for a while. Such a good boy. You can relax your arms now.”

Jack’s arms drop like rocks to his sides and he breathes a deep sigh of relief. He moves to lean his head back, but a firm hand catches it and pushes it against the window.

“I didn’t tell you to move yet, baby.”

Jack smiles and closes his eyes as Gabriel rubs his arms vigorously, helping soothe the muscles as proper circulation is restored.

“Jack, I want you to come for me. I’m not going to help you. I want to watch. Jerk yourself off and come on the window. But don’t come without permission.”

Jack nods against the glass.

Gabriel pulls him to his feet and wraps his arms around Jack’s waist, pressing his warm, bare skin against Jack’s naked body. Jack begins to stroke himself. He feels Gabriel’s hard cock grinding against his ass. His hands slide up and squeeze his pectoral muscles. Jack hisses as Gabriel gives his nipples a sudden, sharp twist. He lets his head drop back onto Gabriel’s shoulder, stroking himself faster and harder as Gabriel twists and teases his nipples ruthlessly. His thighs shake and his stomach clenches.

“Gabriel, I—please…” he moans.

“Please what?”

“Please, may I come now—ah! Please!”

“Come now,” Gabriel growls, sinking his teeth into Jack’s neck.

Jack’s head spins with the pleasure and pain as his cock throbs in his hand, spewing thick, milky threads onto the window. His knees buckle and Gabriel catches him, kissing his neck and shoulders and murmuring words of approval. As he is doing this, he takes Jack’s hand and slips something into it. It’s hard and cold and heavy, and shaped very oddly.

Jack looks down at it, then lifts it to inspect it more closely. It’s a little dome-shaped cage made of tiny steel bars that come up from a ring and join at the center of the convexity. It’s attached by a hinge to a larger steel ring behind it. The entire thing is polished to a chrome-like finish and is quite pleasing to look at.

“What…what is it?” Jack asks, trying not to sound overly eager.

“It’s a cage,” Gabriel purrs into his ear. “I want you to wear it for me while I fuck you.”

Jack gives an involuntary little whine and begins to tremble.

“Jack, are you alright?” Gabriel asks, taking his chin and turning his face up so he can look into it.

“Please,” Jack whispers. “Please put it on me. Please.”

“Lean your back against the window and spread your legs. Not too wide. Just as far as it’s comfortable.”

Jack obeys, avoiding his mess and leaning on the clean window beside it. He watches as Gabriel goes into the bathroom and returns with a little white jar and what appears to be a tiny screwdriver.

“This is a sterile, unscented skin lubricant. It’ll help avoid pinching and chafing.”

He unscrews the cap, scoops out some of the pinkish ointment and gently massages it into the area around Jack’s scrotum and the base of his cock. Jack bucks and gasps as Gabriel rubs some into the overstimulated head.

“Sensitive,” Gabriel laughs. He takes the shiny little steel device to explain its parts to Jack. “This part, the stabilization ring, goes around your shaft and behind your balls, like a cock ring. The cage goes over your cock. The lock is in the hinge, so there’s no need to add a padlock. It locks and unlocks with this.” He holds up the tiny screwdriver, which is actually a very small key. “I’m going to put it on you now, since you just came and there’s less chance that you’ll get an erection right away. Getting hard while you’re in the cage won’t hurt badly, but it’ll feel tight and might be uncomfortable. Do you understand?”

Jack nods and tries not to look scared as Gabriel kneels in front of him and unlocks the device. He gently tugs Jack’s balls and shaft through the larger ring and gets it securely seated. Then he pushes the head of Jack’s cock into the dome-shaped cage, closes it down over his balls, and locks it.

“How does that feel? Any pinching? Hurt anywhere?”

“No…it just feels…weird.” Jack laughs nervously and shifts his weight, trying to get used to the snug, enclosed feeling. “It’s so heavy.”

Gabriel gets to his feet and steps back a pace, admiring Jack’s smooth, flawless body and his perfect cock, shining magnificently in its little steel crown. His own already painfully-hard erection twitches in response. Jack reaches down and touches the cage, cupping it with his hand, hefting it and stroking it with his fingertips. This is too much for Gabriel to resist. Stepping forward swiftly, he takes Jack by the neck and pushes him back into the window, kissing him with savage intensity. His thick, hard shaft grinds against jack’s caged dick, and he gives a low, rumbling growl in his throat.

“Fuck me,” Jack breathes, between kisses. “Please fuck me.”

“You won’t be able to come locked up. You sure you want it?”

“Yes! Yes, please,” Jack whimpers. “I need you inside me, please.”

Gabriel picks him up and carries him over to his bed, where he pushes him down on his back with his ass right at the edge. Jack looks down at his gleaming steel cage as Gabriel lubes up his fingers and spreads his ass. He’s already getting hard and the sensation of being restricted inside it makes him dizzy. The good kind. A little lightheaded like one gets after a glass of good champagne. Warm. Blissful. Safe.

Gabriel eases a finger inside, then two, working him open and stretching his hole for penetration. He lifts Jack’s legs and spreads them wide, and Jack feels the slick, warm head of his cock teasing at the entrance. He pushes it just inside and pauses, watching Jack writhe and strain to get more of it into him. He hooks one of Jack’s legs over his shoulder and reaches down to caress his cage as he penetrates him, plunging slowly through the hot, tight resistance, all the way to base.

Jack’s cock pulses against the cage. He clenches his teeth, gripping the edge of the mattress with both hands. He feels everything more keenly than usual, each sensation heightened to almost painful acuteness; the rigid heat filling him to the breaking point as Gabriel rocks into him, the empty ache when he withdraws, the rough slide when he lunges forward again to thump against his prostate. Gabriel isn’t trying to make him come this time. He is taking his pleasure from Jack’s body in deep, ravenous thrusts.

This knowledge propels Jack to the searing-hot edge of climax and holds him there, raw, excruciating desire gathering in his gut and winding itself into a knot as Gabriel hammers him mercilessly, fucking broken cries out of his mouth and sending tears spilling down his cheeks. His thrusts are picking up in pace, becoming sharp and erratic. He’s going to come soon, Jack thinks, through his delirious haze.

Gabriel prods and fondles his captive cock, touching the exposed head where it tries to swell through the little steel bars. Suddenly, he takes hold of the cage and gives it a firm tug. Gabriel’s heavy shaft pumping into him coupled with the constricting steel ring around his balls tips the precarious balance and sends Jack hurtling over an edge he didn’t know was there. He comes. Deep, visceral pleasure-pain tears through him and shatters his senses. He gives a strangled wail and his body seizes as his ejaculation spouts through the bars of his cage and all over Gabriel’s hand.

“¡Mierda santa!” Gabriel rasps, staring at Jack’s spurting cock, bouncing in its cage as he pounds him. “¡Si, venga baby, dame esa leche! Holy fuck, Jack…so fucking hot, baby…fuck!”

He comes almost instantly, driving his cock in to the hilt, rigid and convulsing as he floods Jack’s insides with warm, slippery fluid. He holds himself still, deep inside Jack as they ride out the spasms, then he withdraws carefully and tumbles into bed beside him. Jack rolls over stiffly and Gabriel pulls him into his arms.

“Jack, baby,” he purrs, stroking Jack’s damp, matted, golden hair back from his rosy forehead. “You came in your cage. Jesus fuck, that was…amazing.”

“It—it was?” Jack pants dazedly, not quite able to make his brain parse sentences yet. “Thank—uh…thank you?”

Gabriel laughs low and deep and squeezes Jack tightly against his chest. “You are a treasure, cariño. One in a million.”

 


	9. Talon

“You’re sure you’re ready?” Gabriel says, laying his hand gently on Jack’s knee. “We don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to,” Jack says. “I really want to. I’ve just never been to a place like this before and I’m kind of nervous.”

“I know, cielito. It’ll be ok, I promise. It’s my club and you’re here with me. People are going to look at you, but you’re used to that, and no one will bother you. I’m not here as a DM tonight, so we can leave any time if you get tired or overwhelmed, or if you feel uncomfortable.”

Jack casts another glance out the dark-tinted window of the chauffeured town car. He reaches up to adjust the heavy, black leather collar so it sits with more ease around his neck, then he turns to Gabriel.

“Ok,” he nods. “I’m ready. How do I look?”

Gabriel smiles. “Beautiful.”

In place of a shirt, Jack is wearing a supple, black leather harness (designed by Mel, of course), which consists of wide straps that cross at the center of his back, come over both shoulders and under his arms, and attach by steel O-rings to a strap that buckles across his chiseled pectoral muscles, just above his nipples. Over the harness, he is wearing a lush, luxurious black fur coat, lined with mulberry silk charmeuse, butter-soft and indulgent against his bare skin.

Above his knee-high black riding boots, his muscular legs are wrapped in tight, black leather breeches, which sit low enough on his hips to expose a generous amount of their defined v-line angle. No underwear, but his cage makes him feel enclosed and secure, cupped snugly over the head of his cock and constricting pleasantly when he moves. Gabriel’s dress is comparatively conservative, but Jack thinks he looks devastatingly handsome and powerful in his tailored, black, European-cut suit and dark-plum button down, with the French collar left casually open.

He sits forward to let Gabriel add the finishing touch to his ensemble: a black and silver Venetian masquerade mask, which conceals Jack’s face from his forehead to the tip of his nose. Gabriel ties the strap securely and checks that it’s comfortable, then kisses Jack softly on his silver-glossed lips. He signals the driver, who opens the door for them as Gabriel steps out and holds out a hand for Jack.

At the entrance to the building, a burly man in a black suit holds that door open for them as well, with a nod and a respectful “Mr. Reyes,” to Gabriel. They take an elevator to a small, richly-decorated lobby, where a lovely, black-haired hostess in a crimson dress waits at a dark-wood counter.

“Good evening Mr. Reyes!” she says cheerfully. “It’s good to see you, sir. Coat to check?”

“Evening, Juliana,” Gabriel says, as he helps Jack out of his coat and hands it to her. “I need a restriction tag, too, please. No talking.”

“Yes, sir,” she smiles. “There you go. And here’s your coat check ticket. Have a lovely evening.”

“Thank you, Juli.” Gabriel turns to Jack and shows him the little, red laminated card, which has a keychain-type ring threaded through a hole punched in one corner. “This is a submissive restriction tag. It tells other guests that you’re under special instructions, so they don’t unintentionally trespass a boundary your Dom has set for you. They’re color-coded for simplicity, and everyone knows what they mean, since there are only a few. Red means no talking. That means no one will speak directly to you unless I explicitly tell them that they may, and you will not speak to anyone but me.”

Jack smiles and nods, feeling a wave of relief wash over him as Gabriel attaches the card to one of the O-rings in his harness. When they planned this outing a couple of weeks ago, they had spoken about his anxiety regarding interacting with people in that new environment. He’s delighted to see that not only has Gabriel remembered, he’s provided the exact restriction Jack needs to feel safer and more at ease.

The hostess opens yet another door for them. This one is made of brushed steel and bears an understated sign that reads “Talon” in simple black lettering. The door leads to a black-curtained entryway, designed so that they have to turn a corner to enter the main club floor. Jack clings to Gabriel’s arm as they enter, anxious and uncertain what to expect.

The first thing he notices is that unlike any other club he’s been to, the grinding, bass-heavy electronic music is being pumped through the sound system at a low enough volume so that people can actually speak and be heard. The second thing he notices is that there are a lot of people here and that they are all very well dressed. Gabriel had mentioned the strict dress-code, and the attendees clearly take it seriously. The few men and women he sees who are not in fetish clothing are wearing tasteful, dark-colored suits, or some sort of cocktail dress or gown.

The majority of the guests, however, are dressed in various types of fetish clothing, including more than a few in masks, and several other collared, harnessed submissives walking about with their Doms. Jack is immediately relieved to find that he is not at all out of place in his rather revealing attire, and is glad for the collar that signifies him as being present under the protection of a responsible party. Overall, the scene resembles more of an upscale cocktail lounge than what he expected from a sex dungeon. Except for all the sex-dungeon accoutrements, of course, which are visible throughout the considerable space.

On the right side of the venue, there is a bar area containing tables and several booths. Past the bar and along the left-hand wall, the space is subdivided into smaller seating and play areas, separated by black sound-dampening fabric panels. Some of these contain leather couches and tables, and some contain racks, suspension cages, pommel horses, Saint Andrew’s Crosses, and various pieces of dungeon equipment that Jack does not recognize. Between the bar and the subdivided spaces on the right, there is an arch leading to a hallway, where Jack can see some closed red doors.

On the far wall, there is a raised, half-circle stage with several rows of chairs set up in front of it. Aside from some small spotlights on individual areas, the lights are tastefully low, and there are candles in glass holders on most of the tables. People seem to be relaxed and comfortable, apart from those who are actively being made uncomfortable by their current occupation.

“Would you like a drink now?” Gabriel asks, leaning down and speaking in a low voice. “Or should I give you the tour first?”

Jack cranes up to murmur, “Tour, please,” in Gabriel’s ear.

They stroll past an alcove with a punishment rack, where a gagged and blindfolded man in pink lace panties is being energetically flogged by a woman dressed head to toe in glossy, fire-engine-red latex. On the other side of the divider, a group lounges on the leather couches, sipping cocktails and chatting. A naked, muscular young man in a spiked dog collar is crouched on the floor at one woman’s feet, lapping water from a stainless steel bowl and nuzzling her knee as she strokes his head. One of the gentleman with whom she is absorbed in conversation is absently petting a young woman, who is wearing nothing but a jeweled collar, white cat ears, and a long, fluffy, white tail plug, and is curled up across his lap, apparently fast asleep.

As they traverse the space, many people pause and speak respectful greetings to Gabriel. Most can’t help but cast a curious glance at the tall, athletic, bare-chested blonde on his arm, but no one speaks to him or even makes mention of his presence. Jack is finding that he rather enjoys this cloak of invisibility that Gabriel has cast about him. He is free to silently observe, and not be made the object of any particular attention, or expected to do anything to entertain or please anyone else. It is the most free and at ease he has ever felt in a crowd of people.

Jack can tell who the Dungeon Masters are without having to ask. They have an air of calm authority that makes them very apparent presences on the floor. They stride about from area to area, looking over each scene and speaking to people who approach them, but not interfering otherwise. Two are black-clothed, rather stocky men in traditional Dungeon Master’s hoods. The third is a petite, curvy, dark-haired woman in a white corset and mini-skirt, with matching white tights and boots. The fourth is a towering behemoth of a man, whose luxurious beard and flowing mane of golden-blonde hair make him look like a lion. He is wearing leather trousers and an armor-like steel chest plate, emblazoned with a gold lion crest, which adds to the leonine impression.

“Hello, Gabriel!” he booms, in a rich, rolling German accent. He nods politely to Jack, then turns back to Gabriel. “How are you this fine evening?”

“I’m great, Reinhardt, thank you,” Gabriel smiles, wincing slightly as the man’s massive paw catches his in a vigorous handshake. “How are things going tonight?”

“Very well, as usual,” the titanic man rumbles merrily. “Mistress Zhou called me to assist with a rope-suspension that was unmanageable for her strength earlier. But the clients were pleased, and it worked out beautifully. She is a very mindful Master, and keeps a close eye on everything.”

“She really is,” Gabriel agrees. “You’re an excellent team. I’d like to show my friend a couple of the private rooms. Which ones are occupied?”

“Let me see,” Reinhardt says, picking up a clipboard from the table near him. “The Holding Cell is booked until eleven, with Mistress Widow overseeing, and the Classroom will be occupied until eleven-thirty, non-risk, so there is no overseer assigned. The Examination Room, the Boudoir, and the Alley are unoccupied.”

Gabriel nods. “Excellent. We’ll look at those. Thank you, Reinhardt.”

“Ah, Gabriel, before I forget,” Reinhardt says, as they turn to go. “There was a young man here last night inquiring after you by name. I told him that you were unavailable and to leave his request with the hostess. He said he would, but he left soon after and nothing was filed with her.”

“By name?”

“Yes. Not your legal name.”

“I see. Was he a regular member?”

“He was on a temporary submissive’s membership, but I had not seen him before. I do not wish to make a mountain from a pebble, it only seemed peculiar and I thought that you should be aware of it.”

“I don’t know who would be asking for me by that name who isn’t a regular member,” Gabriel says, frowning thoughtfully. “Maybe a friend of Mel’s or something. I’ll ask if she referred anyone to me. Thanks, Reinhardt.”

“It is my pleasure, my friend!” the man beams, as they stroll away. “Enjoy your evening!”

“I should have considered this before, and I apologize, Jack,” Gabriel says, once they are out of earshot. “Some people might want to bring me requests while we’re here tonight. I usually prefer to hear their requests in person when I’m able, but I can tell the DMs to have them leave their forms with the hostess, if you’d be more comfortable.”

“I—I think it would be—” Jack breaks off, feeling his face flush with heat. He is doubly glad for the mask, now. “I mean…I’d like to hear how you talk to people about that stuff, if I’m allowed to.”

“Of course,” Gabriel says, giving his arm an affectionate squeeze. “Anything they can say to me, they can say in front of you. You belong to me, remember?”

Jack’s stomach does a flip, and he suddenly feels warm all over. He belongs to Gabriel. _Belongs_. There is so much safety and comfort in that one word, he wants to crawl inside it and curl up. Instead, he smiles shyly and holds onto Gabriel’s strong arm, letting himself be led under the archway and down the hall.

They stop at one of the red doors, on which there is placard that reads “Examination Room.” Gabriel opens it and briefly shows Jack a brightly-lit room with white walls and a white tile floor. It appears to be a fully-functional hospital exam room, complete with medical equipment, a sink and cabinets with a syringe disposal container and box of sterile exam gloves on the counter, and a hospital bed with heavy, leather restraints attached.

They step into the Boudoir next, which Jack likes much better. It is a luxuriously decorated Victorian-style bedroom, draped all about with plush fabrics in brilliant jewel tones. The wood floor is covered with Oriental rugs, and a huge four-poster bed sits in the center of the room. On one wall, there is a fireplace with an iron fender, set about with ornate, high-backed chairs, and behind a Japanese privacy screen on the far end, there is a claw-foot bath tub and a full-length standing mirror, with brass scrollwork around the oval frame.

Next, they visit the aptly named Alley, which is a detailed recreation of a city alley, on the scale of a film set. Jack is delighted with this room and examines everything eagerly, even peering into the large dumpster and aluminum trash cans, which contain black garbage bags filled with rumpled paper as props. The floor is concrete, cracked and stained to look like outdoor pavement, and the high ceiling has been painted black and dotted with tiny white LEDs, to simulate a night sky. The walls have been bricked and distressed, and sprayed with graffiti, like the outsides of real buildings. One has an industrial double-door, with a chain around the handles and a battered sign that reads “No Trespassing.” Another has faux windows in it, with lights shining through curtains behind the glass panes, as if they are really apartment windows. There is even a full-sized fire escape with some potted plants sitting on it.

“Holy shit this is real!” Jack laughs, tugging on the fire-escape ladder and finding it solid and sturdy. “This is amazing! Do people use this room a lot?”

“They do,” Gabriel says, smiling at his enthusiasm. “A lot of people have fantasies about fucking in a dark alley. This one just happens to be cleaner and safer than the real thing.”

Jack’s cock swells and strains against his cage, as his mind supplies him with a sudden, vivid image of being pinned against one of these brick walls and ravaged by Gabriel. He’d put “fantasy rape” as a hard no on his checklist, but his very palpable physical reaction to the idea makes him think maybe he’d like to revisit that answer sometime. Just revisit it, not definitely change it. In fact, this train of thought has already begun to scare him. He trots back to Gabriel, who pulls him close and strokes the smooth skin on his bare shoulders and back.

“How are you doing so far?” he asks. “Are you feeling overwhelmed at all?”

“Mmmm. I’m doing very well,” Jack hums contentedly. “All green.”

Gabriel laughs softly and kisses the top of his blonde head. “Good. There’s going to be another rope-suspension scene in a little while. Why don’t we find some seats. I’d like to hear what you think of it.”

“Yes, please,” Jack says brightly, pulling away to take his arm again. Rope suspension is something he’s been growing more and more curious about, and he’s eager to see it done in real life.

Gabriel leads him back out to the main floor and over to the stage area, where Reinhardt and the man who will be running the scene are attaching support lines to pulleys bolted into a broad, sturdy beam in the ceiling. There is an unoccupied alcove facing the stage, and Jack and Gabriel sit down on the sofa. A black-vested waiter arrives almost instantly, and Gabriel orders a glass of red wine for himself and a ginger ale for Jack.

They are watching the setup and sipping their drinks, when the petite, white-clad Dungeon Master Jack had seen earlier approaches. Her dark hair is up in a bun, secured with a jeweled pin, and she wears thick, black-rimmed glasses. Jack thinks she’s absolutely adorable, but he can’t imagine her as a stern and commanding whip-wielder. He hopes he gets to see her in action some time. Her style must be very unique.

Gabriel stands and bows politely to greet her. “Mistress Zhou, so good to see you. What can I do for you?”

“Good evening, Mr. Reyes,” she says, in a sweet, lilting little voice, returning his bow. She nods politely to Jack, then speaks to Gabriel as he resumes his seat. “There is a young lady here named Sarah. She is an unattached submissive and has been a regular visitor for more than a year. She would like to make a request, if you are willing to speak with her.”

Jack’s ears perk up and he glances at Gabriel, then back at Mistress Zhou.

“I’d be happy to,” Gabriel says. “Send her in. Thank you, Mistress.”

Mistress Zhou dips her head and vanishes into the bustling crowd. In a short time, she returns, with a young woman following behind her. She is wearing a purple corset and a long, black skirt, and fidgeting nervously with her wavy, auburn hair. Mistress Zhou speaks some quiet words to the young woman, who nods her understanding, then she goes away. The young woman approaches with faltering steps. Jack watches uneasily as she sinks to her knees beside the sofa and waits, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor. He knows the kneeling is part of the expected protocol, but it’s different to have it explained to him than to see it in person.

“Hello Sarah,” Gabriel says. “Mistress Zhou tells me you have a request for me.”

“Y—yes, sir,” the young woman stammers, glancing up at Gabriel, then quickly down again. “Yes, I have a—a request, sir.”

She is positively trembling and looks like she might burst into tears at any moment. Jack’s stomach turns with empathy and his anxiety spikes. Gabriel is so gentle with him, but he is a lover. He has never seen Gabriel interact with a client, and he’s not sure what to expect from this conversation.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Gabriel says to her, in his low, smooth voice. “I’m not as scary as all that. Come sit up here on the sofa, so we can talk more comfortably.”

The young woman gets to her feet and sits stiffly on the edge of the sofa, still looking down at her hands, folded in her lap.

“That’s better,” Gabriel says. He raises a hand to summon a nearby waiter. “I’m going to have Charlie bring you a glass of champagne, Sarah. These things are always easier with a little bit of the old social lubrication, aren’t they?”

In spite of her frazzled nerves, she laughs and nods, her fair cheeks flushing a pretty pink. Gabriel relays the order to the waiter, then turns back to her.

“So, Sarah,” he says. “You’ve been a regular attendee for over a year now, correct? And you’ve seen me work before, so you’re familiar with the way I do things?”

“Yes, sir,” she says, blushing pinker. “Ma—many times, sir.”

“Excellent,” Gabriel smiles. “What is it about my particular style that makes you feel that I’d be the person who can best serve your needs?”

The word “serve” confuses Jack. His idea of Dominants and submissives had been the other way around entirely. He makes a mental note to ask Gabriel about it later.

“Well, sir,” Sarah says timidly, “I…you…I just—” she breaks off, and tears begin to well up in here pretty green eyes. “I’m so sorry. I feel like such an idiot getting emotional like this.”

Gabriel waits while the waiter delivers her glass of champagne, then leans forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Sarah, can I tell you a secret?” he says. “I’m exactly like you. I’m here for the same reasons you are. We’re all here because we share something that’s deeply important to us, and that makes us vulnerable. This is a safe place for you to express that part of yourself, with no fear of judgement or rejection, just like it is for me.”

Sarah takes a deep swallow of her champagne, and then looks up at him again, a bit more bravely this time. “I’ve watched you a lot of times and I need someone strong, like you, sir. I need it…to hurt. I’m not afraid of—of pain, but I just…”

“I understand,” Gabriel says, nodding sympathetically. “Now, tell me about your request. How can I help you?”

“I—I have a hard time getting out my thoughts when I have to, like…talk. I filled out—I wrote it in the form, if that’s ok, sir.”

“That’s perfect,” he says. “Let me see it.”

She opens her little velvet purse and draws out a folded sheet of paper, which she extends to Gabriel with a trembling hand. He unfolds it and reads carefully through what she has written.

“No heart conditions, no epilepsy, good. No latex allergy…is there any chance you could be pregnant?”

“No sir,” she says, shaking her head decidedly.

He scans the form again, then draws a pen from his breast pocket and signs and dates it on a line near the bottom.

“I’ll be happy to help you, Sarah,” he says, as he hands it back to her. “Give this form to one of the DMs. We’ll call you this week to go over some final details and reserve a time and date for our scene.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sarah says, her voice quavering with emotion. “Thank you so much. This…means the world to me, sir.”

“You’re very welcome,” Gabriel replies warmly. “I look forward to working with you.”

Sarah rises, dips her head respectfully, and then retreats, clutching her paper tightly. Jack gazes after her until she disappears into the crowd.

“That woman seemed so scared,” he says. “Is she going to be ok?”

“She’ll be alright,” Gabriel says. “She was nervous because we’re not in character now. Once we get her into her scene, she’ll be a lot less keyed-up.”

“What does she want? I didn’t see what she wrote.”

“She wants breast and genital bondage with clothespins, a public flogging in the stocks, and forced urination with verbal humiliation and face slapping.”

“Jesus Christ!” Jack exclaims in a whisper. “That shy, timid little woman wants to be beaten and—and forced to piss herself for an audience?”

Gabriel shrugs. “It what she needs, Jack. That’s what I do. I give people what they need and can’t ask for anywhere else.”

“But it’s—it seems so cruel. I guess I thought it would be more…sexual.”

“She wants breast and genital bondage,” Gabriel laughs. “That doesn’t sound sexual to you?”

“But bondage with clothespins involves a lot of pain, right?”

“A fair amount, yes. Some people get their release just from the pain, some people actually achieve orgasm as a result of the process. She’ll probably fall into the latter category.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Lots of experience. I’ve been at this a while, baby.”

Gabriel extends his arm and Jack nestles into him, resting his head on his shoulder, frowning thoughtfully behind his mask. The idea of Gabriel doing things to this woman that will give her sexual release, especially in public, should bother him. He feels like he should be jealous or at least morally affronted, or _something_. Instead, he feels…none of those things.

He’s never considered himself a voyeur, but the idea of watching Gabriel dominate another human being, reduce them to a quivering wreck and make them come without even fucking them…it makes him feel hot and lightheaded. In fact, if he’s being honest, his cock has been leaking through his cage since she knelt on the floor in front of Gabriel. He wonders what would happen if he got on his knees and asked permission to suck Gabriel’s cock right now.

Outside their little alcove, the chairs facing the stage are mostly full, as the rope suspension is due to start in a moment. Other people are milling about or standing and chatting in little clumps. They all seem pretty involved in their own things, but someone could stroll by at any moment and see. They might even stop and watch. The idea sends a little thrill up his spine. Not fear, exactly. A feeling like he had that first day, when Gabriel had said he’d teach him to be told no.

The house lights dim in the area around the stage and the spotlights come up, signaling that the scene is about to begin. Jack wavers on the razor’s edge of indecision for a beat, then languidly, casually, as if he does it every day, he slides off the couch and kneels between Gabriel’s knees. His heart pounds in his ears as he raises his eyes to look up at him. Gabriel sits still and impassive, watching him, with that fierce, black fire smoldering in his eyes behind the placid half-smile.

Jack opens his already wet, pouting lips and forms the only word he can manage. “Please.”

Gabriel gazes down at him and replies with the only word that matters. “Yes.”

Some dark, sultry electronic music thumps through the speakers as the scene begins onstage, but Jack is unaware of either. They are alone on a pinnacle high above the world, Gabriel enthroned and Jack a devout and zealous worshipper at his feet, breathless, dizzy, almost drunk on the brazen thing he is doing. But he is inside Gabriel’s space, held by his will, oblivious to all else as he slowly unfastens his belt and fly, and eases his cock out of his black underwear.

The rope Master on the stage is artfully weaving his subject into an intricate web of crimson, gradually contorting her lithe body into the shape he desires, but Gabriel’s eyes see only Jack, his golden-haired angel, kneeling to serve him. Jack takes him in his mouth, licking and sucking him eagerly, working his tongue along the shaft, squeezing on the swollen head with each deep swallow, heedless of the admiring gazes of those whose eyes happen to wander that way and catch sight the beautiful blonde on his knees, attending to his stern and handsome master with such exemplary devotion.

Gabriel lays his hand possessively on the back of Jack’s blonde head, shuddering with the aching pleasure as he thrusts into the back of his throat. Jack can feel the blood rushing through the veins in Gabriel’s cock, hot and rigid against his tongue. He gags and quickly recovers, fingers digging into Gabriel’s thighs as he sucks him with redoubled determination.

Gabriel’s hand tightens into a fist in his hair. Taking hold of his collar with his free hand, he pushes Jack’s head down abruptly, stopping his breath and choking him on his cock. Jack’s throat clamps down again, gagging hard, drooling around the jaw-cracking girth. His body jerks involuntarily, but Gabriel holds him fast, hips twitching, cock spasming in his mouth as he comes, filling it with thick, salty fluid. Tears spill down the silver surface of Jack’s mask as he forces his throat open, straining to swallow every drop.

Gabriel watches with soft, hazy eyes as Jack pulls away, pausing to lap the remaining slick from the head of his cock, then tucks it carefully back into his underwear and refastens his fly and belt. Then he reaches down and pulls Jack into his lap, falling back against the sofa cushions and wrapping him up tightly in his arms. Jack nuzzles his masked face into the crook of Gabriel’s neck, breathing in his aromatic, masculine scent, blissed-out, and tingling from head to toe.

“I’ve never done anything like that in a public place before,” he says bashfully, voice wrecked and hoarse. “Did I…was it alright?”

Gabriel laughs, low and deep. Jack can feel the vibration through his chest. “It was perfect, mi sol. You are perfect.”

 

 

Jack lies in Gabriel’s bed later that night, basking in the attention and approval of his lover, as Gabriel strokes and caresses his naked body. His glossy steel cage gleams like gold in the yellow-orange glow of the fireplace, probably the last time they’ll use it this season, as summer lengthens and the evenings are getting warmer.

“Gabriel?” Jack says softly.

“Yes, Jack?”

“When you do your scene with that woman from tonight, could I…come with you?”

“You’d be more than welcome to watch me work anytime, but I’m not sure you understand exactly how it’s going to be. I’m concerned that it might upset you.”

Jack looks up at him, confused. “But, I mean, I know what you’re going to do to her. We talked about it.”

“Yes, but you haven’t seen me in my professional persona. The way I am with you is very different from the way I am with my clients at the club.”

“How do you mean?”

Gabriel hesitates for a moment. “My Master persona…he’s not nice, Jack. He’s not gentle or patient or merciful at all. He’s a hard Dom and a sadist. I only agree to act in that role for people who want to be treated very roughly and who I think can handle it. I’m hesitant to let you see me like that, because I don’t want you to be afraid of me, or think that I want to treat you that way.”

“If he’s not nice and that’s not what you want to do, why do you do it?”

“I do want to do it. I _need_ to do it. It’s part of who I am.”

“But it’s not who you are with me,” Jack says, beginning to grow upset. “I don’t understand why you can’t be all of who you are with me.”

Gabriel pulls him against his chest and kisses his forehead and hair. “Jack, I am all of who I am, all the time, but I don’t express every single aspect of my personality in every situation. My Master persona represents a pretty dark side of me. I don’t express that with you, because that’s not what either of us wants or needs from our relationship.”

“I want to know you, Gabriel,” Jack insists. “I want to know all of you. I don’t need your Master persona to be cruel to me, but I won’t—I mean to say, I don’t think it’s fair to expect me to ignore this important part of your life. So…I am asking permission to come and watch your scene. Please, may I come with you?”

Gabriel’s chest swells with satisfaction as he hears Jack correct his petulant demand into a well-framed and respectful request. He smiles fondly and strokes Jack’s cheek. “Alright, Jack. You may come with me.”

Jack’s eyes light up and he smiles brightly. “I really can?”

“Yes. You really can. But I’ll be there as a DM running a scene, so you’ll have to follow a very strict set of rules regarding your behavior toward me. And you’ll have to be ok being there without my attention until I’m finished doing what I have to do.”

Jack balks at the prospect. “Like, I have to go there alone and everything? I don’t think I can do that.”

“No, baby, you can come with me. I just want to be sure you’ll be ok by yourself while I’m working.”

Jack tosses his head. “Gabriel, I am an adult. I think I can take care of—ooh! Can I ask Ana to come?”

“Wait, what?” Gabriel laughs. “Ana? Jack, I don’t really think this would be her scene.”

“Oh, excuse me, mister _I know everything about Jack’s best friend_ , are you kidding? Ana is a total freak. She’d love it! No offense.”

“None taken, mi sol. Just remember, you’re a freak, too.”

“Me?” Jack exclaims, feigning shock.

“Yeah, you.” Gabriel tugs on Jack’s cage. “Pretty officially, too.”

“Oh—ah!” Jack gasps. “Ok, fine. But just because I belong to you and you get to boss me around.”

“Damn right I do,” Gabriel says, climbing over him and pressing kisses into his flat stomach.

“Gabriel, will you talk to me about something else?”

“Of course. What would you like to talk about?”

“You said you were a submissive before, and that was how you learned to be a good Dom.”

“I was.”

“So…what was that relationship like? What was your Dom like? Cause I can’t imagine anyone dominating you.”

Gabriel looks at Jack oddly. “Wait, Jack…are you serious?”

“Um…yes?” Jack says. Clearly he has missed something, but he doesn’t know what.

“I’m sorry, Jack, I thought you understood,” Gabriel says. “Mel was my Dom.”

 

 

 

 


	10. La Grande Faucheuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some very lovely people have made a Discord server for people who enjoy my silly stories, people who are fans of R76, and just people who like to hang around with a bunch of other nerds. We'd love it if you'd join! 
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> _____________

Jack blinks. “Oh.”

“That bothers you,” Gabriel says.

“I—no. I just, uh. I—I didn’t…hm.” Jack sits up and crosses his arms, attempting to gather his thoughts.

So many things about Gabriel’s relationship with his ex-wife suddenly make more sense to him. Their co-founding of Talon, their fetish fashion line, and then there’s Mel’s financial situation relative to Gabriel’s, her unassuming but obviously primary position in the family dynamic, Gabriel’s courteous, almost deferential manner of speaking to her…

Gabriel sits up, too. “Jack, it’s ok to tell me if it bothers you. We need to talk about it.”

“Ok. Ok. So, she was your Dom. But she’s not—you two aren’t—” he breaks off and looks away.

“Of course not, Jack,” Gabriel says gently. “Not for a long time. Our relationship is exactly how I’ve presented it. She’s my ex-wife, Jesse’s mother, and my best friend and business partner.”

Jack twists his fingers anxiously in his blonde hair. “I need you to help me understand this, Gabriel, because I just can’t. How can you two be like you are now, when you were…like that?”

“Power exchange relationships end when the people in them choose to end them, just like vanilla romantic relationships,” Gabriel says, gently taking Jack’s hand away from his hair and kissing it. “There’s not a lot more to it. That part of the relationship ended before we got divorced.”

“How? Why?”

“Because we decided my training was sufficient and that I was ready to spread my wings and try my hand as a Dom. We’d played with other subs quite a bit, with me acting as the alpha sub, and—”

“Wait, alpha sub? What is that?”

“That’s not the term most people use for it. I should probably say pre-Dom switch, but I was her sub and the terms get confusing. I just mean the position taken by a sub who’s a Dom in training, like I was, or just a favored or more experienced sub, supervising lower ranking subs under a Dom’s authority. I was essentially dominating other submissives under her direction. Other male submissives.”

“You…had sex with men in front of your wife?”

“Under her explicit instructions, yes. According to pre-agreed terms during our play sessions with other willing participants.”

Jack frowns. “But you’re gay. Isn’t that kind of like cheating?”

“Well, no. Unlike that couple I had the bad experience with at the club, Mel really did like to watch me with other men. She could’ve had me dominate any other submissives as part of my training, but she chose male ones for me.”

“And you didn’t, like…wonder why?”

“No. I’m not saying I shouldn’t have, but I just didn’t. Denial and self-deception are powerful defense mechanisms. They can keep you blind to things other people see plain as day. After it all came out, she confessed to me that she’d already suspected I was gay by that point, and she had wanted to give me a safe space to explore it. She knew what I wanted, even if I was still lying to myself.”

“Ok, so you were doing that, and then?”

“Then she and I agreed that I was ready to take on my own submissives. She uncollared me and gave me her silver-handled flogger as a sort of symbol of my graduation, and that was that. We still played together with subs, but we hadn’t had sex with each other in a long time by then, and we never did again. Eventually, I came out to her and we started the divorce process.”

“That sounds…weird. And complicated. And I still don’t understand.”

“Human beings are weird and complicated, Jack. It wasn’t even as simple as I’m making it sound now. It was intensely painful for me. And for her.”

“But you’re best friends,” Jack says, with an edge of frustration in his voice. “And you still live together. I thought it was all amicable and…easy.”

“It was amicable, but it was still a divorce. That kind of emotional complexity is hard to untangle, especially when you’re gay and you’re married to your child’s mother. But I think we did the best we could have. The way things are now might seem weird to other people, but it’s what works for us and it’s what’s best for Jesse.”

“I know,” Jack says, in a more placid tone. The reminder of Jesse helps ground him in the concrete reality of the situation. “It’s good that you put him first. Does he know that you two were…that way together?”

“He’s fourteen, Jack,” Gabriel laughs. “It wouldn’t be at all appropriate or healthy for us to have discussed our history of kinky sexual activity with him at his age.”

“Yeah,” Jack winces. “That was a stupid question. Sorry. I’m still trying to understand it all and my brain is making bad calculations.”

“It’s alright, baby. I know this is a complicated situation. Thank you for being so open and understanding.”

“I mean, I don’t totally understand it, but I want to. How…how did it all start? Is it something you got into together?”

Gabriel shakes his head. “I wasn’t really aware of it as anything more than something I’d seen in a certain kind of porn. Mel introduced me to the lifestyle.”

“How? How do you even bring something like that up?”

“I brought it up with you, so it can’t be that much of a leap to imagine,” Gabriel smiles. “But Mel was always totally open about it. The first time I picked her up from her flat in Paris, I noticed she had some very interesting art on the walls. I mentioned I liked it, and she showed me her little home dungeon.”

Jack’s eyes go wide. “You—on the first date…?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It wasn’t our first date, but no, we didn’t use her dungeon. She just gave me a tour. I was fascinated and we spent all of dinner talking about it. After we’d been seeing each other a while, she gradually introduced those things into our relationship. This is…a little embarrassing, but it was the only way I could function sexually with her.”

“That’s not the only way you can function at all, is it?” Jack asks, then feels stupid. “No, wait. We had amazing sex before we started doing any of this.”

“I’m fully functional in that department, Jack,” Gabriel laughs. “I needed the kink stuff with my wife because…you know. Gay.”

“I know,” Jack sighs, falling back into his pillow. “I said another thing before I had the thought all the way baked. My brain isn’t being very helpful tonight.”

Gabriel bends down to kiss his forehead. “You’re trying. That’s all that matters. Is there anything else you want to know?”

“Well, I guess like, what kind of things did you do? I mean with her and other subs. When you were one.”

“A lot of things. I want to be as open with you as possible, but this involves her privacy, too. I’m not comfortable going into too much detail without her permission.”

“Oh, no,” Jack says, flushing with embarrassment, “I’m not trying to pry for details. Of course you’d want to keep that private. I just…what I really wanted to know was how you learned the things you’ve been teaching me. Did Mel teach you?”

“Not really. She wasn’t an expert, back then. She and I learned most of it together.”

“How?”

“Books, seminars, people in the community. There are a lot of resources out there. You find styles that appeal to you and start modeling your own based on those. I’d actually recommend someone who’s just beginning to come to Talon and talk to people there. Lots of good, knowledgeable people.”

“If I want to learn something, I’ll just ask you,” Jack says, with a deep yawn. “Can we go to sleep now?”

Gabriel laughs and kisses him on the forehead again, then the lips. “You just say whatever you’re thinking at any moment, don’t you.”

Jack nods sleepily. “Yeah, but it’s cause I don’t know any better.”

“I’m glad you don’t know any better, mi sol. I love how genuine and open you are. We can talk more about this another time, if you like.”

“Mmmhm, another time,” Jack mumbles, already drifting off, as Gabriel slides under the covers and wraps him up in his strong arms.

 

 

 

Jack watches nervously as the spotlights come up, dramatically illuminating the scene for the hushed audience. To stage-left, there is a big, black Saint Andrew’s cross, with leather wrist and ankle cuffs attached. To stage-right, there is a piece of equipment Jack recognizes as a pillory, also painted black, with a white towel folded on the kneeling bench that sits on the frame behind the restraining board. Or rather, it should sit behind it, but apparently someone has set it up with the headboard facing away from the audience.

Jack doesn’t think about why that might be, though. All of his attention is fixed on the center of the stage, where a man is seated on a large, black armchair. He is wearing a heavy, black leather coat with the hood pulled up over his head. Below the hood, his face is concealed entirely by a bizarre, bone-white mask, with deep, slanted, black eyepits, like some kind of nightmare skull. Aside from this strangely gothic accessory, the rest of his attire is exclusively black, and mostly suggests combat gear. He is wearing boots with armored shin guards over tight black trousers, and a black body-armor chest plate. Heavy, black gauntlets cover his forearms to the elbow, and the fingertips of his gloves are capped with curved, cruel-looking steel claws.

This is the first time Jack has seen the Reaper, Gabriel’s Master persona. He is slouched languidly, knees wide apart, tapping on one arm of the chair with his steel claws. Everything about his demeanor indicates bored impatience, which is not a mood Jack has ever seen Gabriel display. This Reaper must be a very different side to him, indeed.

After two or three minutes, another person enters from stage-left. It’s Sarah, the young woman who requested the scene, but she looks quite a bit different. She is barefoot, dressed only in a thin, white t-shirt and light-blue panties, no makeup, and her auburn hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. Jack thinks this look suits her better than the heavy makeup and corset he’d seen her in before, but she also looks very small and vulnerable, which makes him uneasy.

She pads across the stage toward the seated Master and drops to her knees beside the chair, head bowed, keeping her eyes on the floor. Jack takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, reminding himself that the man up there is Gabriel, and not actually some terrifying psychopath who is going to murder her and chop her up, or whatever psychopaths do.

After a moment, the skull mask cocks downward and the black eyepits seem to gaze at her musingly. The steel claws tap a few more times on the arm of the chair, as if he’s deciding what to do with her. Then, having apparently come to a decision, he reaches out the gloved hand and takes hold of her ponytail. She grimaces, but doesn’t resist as he drags her roughly by her hair to kneel between his knees. He must be speaking to her, but whatever he is saying can’t be heard offstage. She nods as best she can with her head held fast, then he rises slowly, pulling her to her feet in front of him.

He puts his large, gloved hands on her delicate shoulders and turns her around to face the audience. He is nearly a foot taller than her, and his armored, black-clad body looks huge and menacing, looming behind her pale, petite frame. She squeezes her eyes shut as he yanks her head backward, exposing her throat. Her chest is visibly heaving with shallow, panting breaths. With his free hand, he draws a slow line down her neck and breastbone with the tip of a steel claw.

Jack watches, enthralled, as he hooks the claw into the front of her t-shirt and slices it open from neckband to hem. He thinks those claws must be seriously sharp to shear through cotton jersey so smoothly like that. The t-shirt drops to the floor about her bare feet. Goosebumps prickle up all over her white skin as the Reaper traces cold, steel claws over her pale-pink nipples, standing puckered and erect on her little round breasts. He nudges her legs apart with a booted foot, then deftly slices both sides of her light-blue panties, letting them drop to the floor with her shredded t-shirt.

Jack casts a glance at Ana, who is seated beside him. He is curious to find out what her reaction is to all of this, but she is watching the scene with absorbed attention, and doesn’t notice him looking at her. He smiles to himself. Of course she’s cool with it and of course she’s interested. Ana really is the best.

Onstage, the Reaper is herding his subject toward the Saint Andrew’s cross. He pushes her back against it and she stands with her head bowed, passively allowing her wrists and ankles to be fastened into the restraints on the X-shaped frame. He stops to remove his heavy gauntlets and says something to her. She raises her head to reply. Jack gasps as the Reaper casually cuffs her across the face with the back of his bare hand.

“Jackie, are you ok?” Ana whispers in his ear, laying a hand on his forearm. “Is this upsetting you?”

“No, I’m ok,” Jack whispers back. “I was just startled.”

Ana looks at him closely for a moment, then turns her attention back to the stage.

The Reaper is speaking to the girl again. She shakes her head, and he responds with a ringing, openhanded slap that leaves red streaks on the side of her face. He kneels down to open a little black case, and stands up again, holding a length of black rope. Jack has seen several Shibari demonstrations at this point, so he recognizes that the Reaper is binding her breasts in a basic chest harness. Then he kneels again and produces a handful of clothespins from the bag.

Jack has never seen this done, but it looks like it will be rather painful. He wonders vaguely why there appears to be some kind of twine laced through the clothespins. Maybe to keep them from falling on the floor if one comes off? The girl writhes and grits her teeth as her black-clad tormentor meticulously clamps fourteen clothespins, one-by-one, to her sensitive skin. When he is finished, they fan out like little rays of sunshine from the lower halves of her breasts. He gives them a few tugs and flicks, as if he’s testing their hold. Then, apparently satisfied, he releases his captive from the ankle and wrist restraints.

She steps forward and staggers, and he deftly catches her in his powerful arms. Rather than holding her steady and helping her get her balance, as Jack would expect Gabriel to do, he shoves her roughly to the floor, with the snarled words, “Down, bitch!”

This is the first thing that has been said up there so far that has been audible to Jack. Hearing such a thing growled at a helpless girl, in a voice that somewhat resembles Gabriel’s, stuns him and sends a chill racing up his spine. He reaches over and grasps Ana’s hand. She gives his reassuring squeeze in return.

The Reaper has the girl by her ponytail yet again (Jack is beginning to understand the practicality of the hairstyle now) and is using it like a leash to turn her to face stage-right. He steps back and draws something from a concealed pocket. It looks like the handle of a screwdriver, but he flicks his wrist and the thing telescopes out with a snap, transforming into a thin, flexible, black switch.

Jack’s stomach flips as it comes down in a lightning-quick arc to slash across the girl’s exposed ass. She gives a yelp and collapses onto her stomach, clawing the floor with her fingers. The Reaper takes her by her hips and hauls her back up onto her hands and knees.

“Crawl,” he snarls.

The switch cuts across her ass again, producing another broken cry, but she obeys. He follows her, idly snapping at her thighs and ass with the tip of the switch. Her face is streaked with tears and she gives plaintive little whines with each indolent swat, as she crawls on her hands and knees across the entire width of the stage. When they reach the pillory at last, he stops her and drags her back to her feet. Instead of putting her on it, he shoves her toward the front of the stage and stands behind her again, holding her by the back of her neck. She tries to turn away, but he wrenches her head forward to face the crowd of spectators.

“Look!” he barks.

She glances wide-eyed around the huge room, panting and visibly trembling.

“All these people, here to see what I do to you,” he rasps, in a sneering, sing-song tone. “Poor little pig, and the big bad wolf is being so cruel. Am I cruel, pig?”

“N—no, Master,” she stammers.

He laughs a grating, raspy laugh and gives her thigh another swat. “This what you deserve, isn’t it. To be stripped and beaten up here, so everyone can see what a filthy little slut you are.”

“Yes, Master,” she whimpers. She squeezes her eyes shut as his hand slides up her neck to take hold of her hair again.

“And you like it, don’t you.” He uses the switch to flick and toy with the clothespins clamped to her breasts as he taunts her. “You like being treated they way you deserve, don’t you, pig.”

“Yes…yes, Master.”

“Say it!” he roars.

“I—I like it, Master! P—please, treat me like I deserve…please!”

She groans through her gritted teeth as he deals several cruel lashes to her nipples. The groan shatters into a wail as he gives the twine a sudden, sharp wrench, snapping off all the clothespins at once. Her knees buckle, but he already has her by the waist, easily lifting her trembling body with one arm, holding her like a doll as he opens the headboard. He carries her to bench, where he stands her on her knees, back to the audience, and bends her over to place her neck and wrists in the restraining board. This pillory is designed so that the kneeling bench sits level with the front piece. This keeps the subject’s ass tilted upward at a more extreme angle than usual, and leaves them far more exposed than a traditional model.

Jack sees now that it’s facing backward to give the audience a clear view of her ass, which will be the focus of the flogging. He also notices that there is a black sheet made of rubber or plastic spread out on the stage below the device. Is she actually going to piss herself? He’s almost inclined to believe she won’t, but Gabriel had treated it as a serious part of the request, so he guesses it’s possible. He’s not sure how he feels about any of this yet, though, so he chooses not to think about it.

The Reaper picks up his switch again and taps the girl’s inner thighs with it, till she’s spread as wide as he wants. Her back arches and her toes flex and curl helplessly as he attaches the clothespins her smooth-shaven vulva, coolly and methodically, as if he is not at all concerned about inflicting so much pain on the most sensitive area of her body.

He steps back and raises his arm, brandishing the black switch, then he brings it down hard, lashing her in rapid, rhythmic strokes. Not lazily like before, but savagely. Mercilessly searing bright-red stripes into the white skin of her ass and thighs, each blow punctuated by her sharp cries and the snapping sound of the switch striking her flesh. Jack winces with each blow, but he can’t tear his eyes away. Some of the welts are bleeding a little and her body is glistening with sweat. He can see her muscles tensing and her legs beginning to shake.

The Reaper must see it too, because he steps closer and takes hold of the twine. One quick, sharp wrench like before, and the clothespins are snapped off her vulva all at once. She screams hoarsely, bucking and writhing against the heavy wooden restraining board as she loses her last bit of control and floods herself, streaming down her thighs and over the bench and splashing onto the black sheet on the floor.

“Holy shit,” Jack breathes.

She came. He can see the swollen, pink cleft between her legs twitching and convulsing. Gabriel was right. She came just from the torture. And she pissed herself, which wasn’t as gross as he had imagined. Mostly, he is in awe. His head is light and he feels high, like he’s taken some kind of drug. He vaguely notices that people are getting up and talking in polite, but no longer hushed tones, as they begin to file out of their seats. He stands up, but remains where he is, still watching as if spellbound.

The Reaper’s manner and body language seem to have completely transformed. The pillory is open, and he is standing beside Sarah, speaking softly to her. One of his bare hands is on her ass, soothing the ruby-red welts, and the other is stroking her lower back. Jack suddenly feels ashamed of himself and turns away quickly. This is not meant for him, or anyone else. That’s why everyone has gotten up to go. Out of respect for this intensely private moment.

“Come on, Sugar Smack,” Ana says, holding out her hand. “I need a drink. And a cold shower.”

Jack smiles brightly and takes her hand, and they go off toward the bar, leaving Gabriel to attend to his aftercare in privacy. It doesn’t even occur to Jack to be jealous or insecure about leaving his boyfriend alone with a naked woman, who he’d just pain-fucked into outer space. This is her time with Gabriel, and that’s the way it should be.

At the bar, Ana gets a vodka tonic and Jack gets a ginger ale. The tables are full, so they find a free couch in a seating alcove and settle in.

“So, what did you think?” Jack asks eagerly, as soon as they are seated.

“I think your boyfriend is a very interesting man,” Ana says, sipping her drink. “He seems to know what he’s doing, too.”

“Yeah, he does.” Jack bites his lip. “But…you didn’t think it was weird? Seeing him treat that woman that way?”

“Weird? No, not particularly,” Ana shrugs. “I’ve seen a lot of fetish play and that was on the pretty tame end of the scale.”

“It was?” Jack laughs. “What kind of clubs have you been going to, Banana?”

“Private parties, mostly. The club scene is a total drag. Or, it was anyway. I think I’m going to like it here.” Ana frowns. As she’s been speaking, Jack’s face has suddenly gone ash-grey and he is looking somewhere behind her with his mouth half open. “Jackie, what’s wrong with you? You’re all white.”

She turns and looks in the direction he’s staring. In the bar area, she catches sight of the source of her friend’s sudden discomfiture. A tall, lithe, beautiful boy in a white, long-sleeved harness top and white jeans. He tosses his curly hair and laughs at something someone is saying to him.

“Ryan,” Ana spits, her voice dripping venom. “That little motherfucker. What is he doing here?”

“I—I don’t know,” Jack stammers. “I need to—Ana, I can’t do this here. I can’t let him see me here. I just…I need to go now. Please take me home.”

“Of course, Jackie,” Ana says. She’s already set down her drink and is getting up. “Let’s go. Don’t look at him. Quick, now.”

Jack rises and they slip quietly to the front entryway, managing to avoid attracting any notice. He doesn’t breathe until they are safely out in the lobby, and Ana is presenting their coat-check tickets to the politely smiling Juliana. Ana calls the car service as they wait for the elevator, and within ten minutes, they are riding toward Jack’s apartment.

“Hey, Jackie, did you let your boyfriend know we left?” Ana asks.

Jack lifts his head from her shoulder and looks at her sheepishly. “Well…no.”

“You probably should. He might be worried.”

“I know, but I don’t know what to say. I can’t tell him I was running from my ex. He’ll think I’m being stupid and immature.”

“Tell him I’m an old and I got tired, so you had to take me home.”

“But…I don’t want to lie to him,” Jack says. They have pulled up outside his place, and he’s still hesitating over his phone.

Ana smiles. “Then tell him you saw someone you wanted to avoid. He’ll understand.”

“You’re right. He will understand. I’ll text him when I get upstairs. Thanks, Banana.”

“No problem,” Ana says, kissing his cheek before he steps out of the car. “And tell him I loved his show. Night, Jackie.”

 

 

 

Gabriel is sitting on the couch in his office at the club. He is still in costume, but for the skull mask, which he’s set on a side-table, and the heavy black coat, which is hanging over a chair. The club has locker rooms with showers, but his office has a private bathroom with its own shower. He’d had Sarah change there when she’d arrived this evening, since he prefers to do his aftercare away from interruptions and noise.

She emerges from the bathroom wrapped in a white bathrobe, with her damp curls hanging loose over her shoulders. He smiles and pats the sofa beside him. Her demeanor is far more relaxed now, and she returns the smile, trotting over eagerly to sit with him. He hands her a couple of granola bars and a bottle containing some kind of fruit-flavored sports drink.

“Sip that, don’t gulp it,” he says. “And you have to eat both of those before I let you go.”

She nods dutifully and begins to nibble on the snack and sip her beverage.

“How are you feeling physically? Any discomfort?”

She shakes her head. “No, sir. Well, the welts pretty raw, but I’m not worried about it. I…kind of like it.”

“Excellent. So, let’s talk. Tell me how you feel our scene went.”

“It was…I felt like it went really well.” She looks up at him shyly. “Did I do ok?”

“You were wonderful,” he smiles. “Highly responsive, excellent use of your colors, and I felt we had good chemistry. I enjoyed working with you very much.”

“Thank you, sir,” she says. Then her lower lip begins to tremble and she looks down quickly, wiping away some unexpected tears. “I…I can’t tell you how much I needed that. I can’t ever thank you enough. God, sorry I’m crying again.”

“It’s ok to cry, Sarah,” he says gently. “A lot of people do. These things can be very emotionally cathartic. I’d be more worried if you didn’t seem to be affected.”

He takes her bottle and sets it on the side-table, then wraps his strong arms around her. She relaxes immediately into the embrace, sniffling and taking deep, hiccupping breaths. He holds her and rocks her till she’s calm, then lets her sit up and finish her drink, while they chat about the scene.

She had particularly enjoyed the verbal humiliation and being forced to look at the audience. Her least favorite part had been crawling across the stage, but only because it had scraped up her knees. They talk for another ten minutes or so, then she gets dressed and says goodnight, thanking him again as she departs.

After she has gone, he goes and sits at his desk. He is making some notes in a black notebook, when his phone vibrates with a message from Jack.

Jack: Hey Gabriel, I had to leave. Sorry I went without telling you. I wanted to avoid someone so Ana took me home.

Gabriel frowns at his phone screen for a moment, re-reading the message. He can’t think of anyone at the club who Jack would want to avoid, unless…his heart sinks. The “someone” must mean the Reaper. He was probably pretty frightening to Jack. Maybe even horrifying. He sighs and shuts his notebook, contemplating how to respond. He wants to talk to him about it, but he has to get back on the floor and help the other DMs. He doesn’t think a text message is the right way to have this conversation, regardless.

Gabriel: I understand. We can talk about it when I see you next. Goodnight, Jack.

Gabriel rises and reattaches the bone mask, then pulls on his black coat and draws the hood low over his forehead. He takes several deep, meditative breaths, then the Reaper stalks heavily downstairs to the club floor, to perform his obligated duties for the remainder of the evening.

 

 

 


	11. Retrouvailles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some very lovely people have made a Discord server for people who enjoy my silly stories, people who are fans of R76, and just people who like to hang around with a bunch of other nerds. We'd love it if you'd join!
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> https://discord.gg/fSNFZNK
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“Papa, what is going on?” Olivia asks, eyeing her father suspiciously across the table.

The two are seated in their favorite booth at Abuela’s, the bright and homey family restaurant that has served as their meeting place each week (schedules permitting) since she’d moved into her own apartment two years before.

Gabriel looks up from pushing rice around his plate. “Hm? Nothing. What do you mean?”

“Don’t you play dumb with me, viejo,” she says, pointing to his full dish with her fork. “It’s been ten minutes and you haven’t inhaled your food yet. Is that blondie treating you wrong?” She raises a threatening eyebrow. “Do I have to break his legs?”

“Jack? No, Jack is great.”

Olivia crosses her arms and waits.

“It’s nothing,” Gabriel says. “Just…a little thing happened.”

“A little thing?”

He looks away uncomfortably. “Yes. A little thing.”

“Ohhhh. Got it,” she nods. “You freak him out with some of your kinky shit?”

“No! Maybe. I don’t know. How did you know?”

“I know you pretty well, papa. Your only weaknesses are Mexican food and kinky sex. If the food isn’t cheering you up, something must be going wrong with the other thing.”

“Huh,” Gabriel says, looking down at his plate. “Well, I’ll be damned. I thought I was more complex than that.”

Olivia laughs merrily. “Nope. You’re a man. It doesn’t take a neurosurgeon to figure out how your brain works. So, spill. I can’t tell you how bad you fucked up if you don’t tell me what you did to him.”

“I didn’t do anything _to_ him,” Gabriel retorts. “And when did you and I start talking so frankly about sex, young lady? You’re supposed to be my sweet, innocent little girl.”

“When I was fifteen and you took me to the gynecologist to get on the pill, papa. I still think you know more about vaginas than I do. Which is a bit odd for a gay man, but I’ve reconciled myself to your eccentricities.”

Gabriel sets down his fork and looks at her sternly. “Ollie, I swear to the holy mother, if you ever say the word ‘vagina’ to me again, I am disowning you.”

“Well, easy come, easy go,” she shrugs. “Mel has all the money, anyway. Don’t change the subject. What happened with your güerolito?”

“I think I freaked him out,” Gabriel says, rubbing his hands together anxiously. “He asked to come to the club while I was running a scene, and I said yes. It was just a two-on whipping scene with a little bondage, but he hadn’t seen the Reaper before and I don’t know if he was prepared to see me that way. He took off without saying anything before I was done with my aftercare.”

“He just left? Did you talk to him after that?”

“He sent me a text.” He hands her his phone. “I think he meant he wanted to avoid the Reaper.”

Olivia reads the message and hands the phone back, giving him a look. “Papa, you have got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Gabriel says, perplexed.

“You seriously need to cut this shit out. You’re almost fifty—”

“Almost _forty_ ,” Gabriel interrupts.

“Forty, then,” she smirks. “It’s basically the same thing. Either way, you’re too old for this nonsense. You need to grow up and just talk to him, because you’re letting your insecurity do all your thinking for you right now, and that’s not good for either of you.”

Gabriel frowns. “I’m not…insecure.”

“You’re not insecure about anything except this,” she says, tapping the table with her finger for emphasis. “Your love life and your kink stuff. There’s no way you could read that message and assume he meant you were the person he wanted to avoid, unless you were already expecting him to be freaked out.”

“You don’t know Jack, though. He’s fragile.”

“Papa, if this guy is too fragile to handle all of you, then you can’t be with him. That’s the bottom line. I know I tease you about your kinky stuff, but it’s a hugely important part of who you are. Don’t make the same mistake you made with Mel and keep half of yourself hidden until everything blows up.”

Gabriel looks away, stung by this remark. “That’s not fair, Ollie. I didn’t know who I was back then. I was just trying to keep my marriage from falling apart.”

“I’m sorry, papa,” Olivia says sincerely, reaching over and touching his hand. “That was a stupid thing to say. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s ok, baby,” he says, squeezing her hand. “I know what you meant. I’m a little sensitive about myself right now. Ugh, why am I such a mess about this guy? I have my shit together in every other department.”

“I don’t think you’re a mess, but…” Olivia hesitates for a beat. “Papa, you’ve never really had your shit together when it comes to your love life.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I don’t get why I’m like this. I’m extremely good at human interaction. I understand almost everything about people and what makes them tick, but when it comes to romantic attachments, I just keep…failing.”

“Oh, papa, no. You’re not failing. You’ve only been serious about one guy in the six years since you and Mel got divorced, and he failed _you_.”

“But it was my kink stuff that broke us up. And I haven’t been on more than two dates with a man since. Not until Jack.”

“Uh, no, it was Max being a fucking selfish prick that broke you up,” she retorts. “And it’s ok that you haven’t dated around a lot. This is just the way you are. You don’t like anyone until you do, then you like them all the way. You’re like those gay penguins at the zoo. You mate for life.”

Gabriel looks at his daughter blankly. “You think I’m like…a gay penguin. At the zoo.”

“Yep,” she chirps. “It’s a good thing. Everybody wants someone to treat them the way you do when you’re into a guy. If this little blondie doesn’t appreciate you, then fuck him. He doesn’t deserve you. You’ll find a better gay penguin to raise your baby rock with.”

“Ok,” Gabriel nods. “Now I’m totally lost. Baby rock?”

“The gay penguins were sad about not having an egg to raise, so the zookeepers gave them a rock shaped like one, and now they take care of it like it’s their baby. It’s really cute.”

“Yeah, sounds adorable. Remind me not to ask you for advice after you’ve been watching Animal Planet, ok? I can’t believe how many times you said ‘gay penguin’ to me just now.”

“It was an apt comparison, papa,” Olivia says, through a mouthful of empanada. “At least I didn’t say vagina again.”

“Oh my god, that’s it. You’re out of the will. I’m calling the lawyers.”

“Hey, you can’t disown this baby rock,” she laughs. “Who’ll give you advice about gay penguins? Now eat your food, or I’ll get abuelita to come out here and scold you.”

Gabriel picks up his fork and sets dutifully about attending to his meal. Once he actually tastes the savory, tender tamales and aromatic rice, he finds that he does feel a bit better, and sets to with a healthier appetite.

“So,” Olivia continues, when she is satisfied that he has gotten enough to eat. “When are you going to talk to your boyfriend?”

“He’s coming over for dinner tomorrow night. Jesse’s sleeping over at Genji’s—I swear I’m going to have to start paying Sojiro room and board—so we’ll be able to talk.”

“Good. And you better talk for real and not just fuck,” she says, then laughs aloud at his horrified expression. “Don’t look at me like that. I know how you men are.”

“That’s because fucking is easier than talking,” he says deadpan. “Especially when you’re as good at it as I am.”

“Gross, papa!” she groans, covering her eyes with both hands. “I can never unhear that now!”

Gabriel grins triumphantly. “Yeah, don’t get into a ‘who can be the most shocking’ contest with your old man, mija. You will lose.”

“Trust me, I won’t. Ugh, now I have trauma.”

“Well, at least you have something to tell your therapist.”

Gabriel continues to chuckle to himself as he takes care of the check, then the two rise to leave.

“I’m really anxious about this, Ollie,” he says, as they walk outside together. “The truth is, I’ve been avoiding talking to Jack. I like him a lot and I’m afraid I’ll find out that he can’t reconcile himself to that part of me.”

“If Jack can’t see what an amazing catch you are, kinks and all, then he’s a fucking idiot. I just hope he deserves you.” Olivia wraps her little arms around him and squeezes him tightly. Then she looks up at him fiercely. “And if he hurts you, I swear to god he will never walk again. On the runway or elsewhere.”

“Aw, thank you, mija,” Gabriel laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re so good to your papi.”

“You need to be good to you, too, papa. I’m serious. You’re the best man in the world, but you expect way too much of yourself. You’re allowed to be sensitive about things and not always have all the answers. Just make sure you take care of yourself. You deserve to be happy.”

 

 

 

 

“How did you feel, when you saw him?” Dr. Ziegler asks.

“I don’t know,” Jack sighs, gazing up at the ceiling from where he is lying on the couch. “Upset.”

“Upset is a rather broad term, Jack,” she says. “Remember what we talked about. Try to describe exactly what you felt.”

“Ok, I felt…angry, I guess.”

“And why were you angry to see Ryan there?”

“Because he invaded a place where I was supposed to be safe,” Jack says, sitting up. “I felt secure and comfortable there, and now I don’t. He had no right to intrude on that and take it away from me.”

“What about him being there makes you feel unsafe?”

“Everything. You know how emotionally abusive he was. That’s what brought me here in the first place.”

“I do, but I would like you to talk it out.”

“Well, I can’t be free to be myself and let go of my insecurities when he’s standing there reminding me of them. Plus, he uses everything he knows about me like a weapon. If he saw me there, I wouldn’t put it past him to spread it around to everyone who would listen, which would be a lot of people.”

“And you do not wish people to know that you visit this place.”

Jack shakes his head. “It’s not a place you just casually visit. Being there means you’re at least interested in that lifestyle. I don’t want people I work with knowing something that private about me. I’m not even sure how I feel about it yet.”

“You are uncertain how you feel about the lifestyle?”

“Yeah. I mean, I like it so far, but it’s new to me and it’s so much to learn and figure out and think about. The last thing I need when I’m trying to explore something like this is Ryan there watching me.”

“So, what do you think you should do to address Ryan’s intrusion into your safe space at the club?”

“I guess the first thing is, I have to explain to Gabriel why I ran away. I still haven’t talked to him about it. Otherwise…I’m not sure yet.”

“When do you see him again?”

“Tonight. He invited me over for dinner.”

“Good. Talk to him, Jack. You do not have to give him any details that make you uncomfortable, but you are in a relationship now. He deserves honesty from you about things that impact your emotional state.”

“Yes,” Jack nods. “Honesty and open communication.”

“I do think, however, that you should let him know that your ex-boyfriend has intentionally caused you distress in public in the past. I am sure he will want you to feel safe at his club.”

“Well…it’s more complicated than that,” Jack says, wringing his hands uneasily. “Ryan sort of works for Gabriel’s ex-wife, who he owns the club with. He models for her fashion line in Paris sometimes and she’s probably the one who invited him. If I tell Gabriel about him and he tells her…I don’t want it to look like I’m attacking his career, you know?”

“I doubt very much that they will think you are doing that. They sound like intelligent, reasonable adults.”

“That’s the other thing. They _are_ adults. They’re both a lot older than me and Ryan. Won’t this all sort of come off like…teenage drama to them?”

Dr. Ziegler shakes her head firmly. “Emotional abuse is not teenaged drama, Jack. It is destructive and very serious. If you explain your discomfort to Gabriel and ask how he would like to handle it, since it is a matter involving his business, I think he would be rather pleased that you came to him in such a direct, mature manner.”

“Yeah, that does sound like something he’d like.” Jack sighs. “I wish he wasn’t so much better than me at being a grown-up. I feel like such an idiot compared to him.”

“That kind of wisdom comes with life experience. You will get there. Remember, he is ten years older than you. He has had that much more time to learn from his mistakes.”

“I hope I’ve learned from mine,” Jack says. “Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“Do you feel as if you are making a mistake now?”

“No. I—I don’t know,” Jack says, tears suddenly blurring his vision. “I hope not.”

“It is alright, Jack. Breathe. Sit with your feelings. Is there more going on than just Ryan’s intrusion?”

“It’s the whole being in a relationship thing. I don’t think it’s a mistake, but…I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?”

“I really like Gabriel, but he’s so intense. His personality is like a fucking freight train. He’s just perfectly steady and sure of himself and headed down his own set of tracks and I’m welcome to come along for the ride, if I want to.”

“But you are not sure you want to.”

“I do want to. I think I do. But…I’m afraid I’m going to get too caught up in him and lose my identity. When I was with Ryan, he became the center of my universe. I neglected myself and my friends and put all my energy into just…being Ryan’s boyfriend. I don’t want to do that again. I want to still be me when I’m with someone.”

“That is a very healthy thing to want,” Dr. Ziegler says gently. “Do you feel that Gabriel does not give you the space you need to care for yourself?”

“No, he does. He’s really respectful of my career and my time with my friends, and he’s always happy to work around my schedule. But I don’t want to do anything as much as I want to be with him. That’s what scares me. I feel like I could drop my entire life right now and just go be with him wherever, and I’d be happy.”

Dr. Ziegler smiles. “That sounds like a very normal feeling in the honeymoon phase of a relationship, when things are fresh and exciting, and all your emotions are amplified.”

“But that makes me scared, too. It feels so good to be with him, I can’t even describe it. All my anxiety and fear and self-consciousness just shuts off and I can breathe. It’s like floating in a hot bath and standing on top of the Eiffel tower at the same time.”

“Standing on top of the the Eiffel tower?”

“Yeah, I mean, like…when I’m with him, I feel like we’re by ourselves, high up on a tower, and everything else is way down on the ground. It’s thrilling and exciting and wonderful. But…what happens when the tower collapses?”

“Ah, I see. You are afraid that after the honeymoon phase is over, those good feelings will dissipate, and you will find that there is no solid foundation for the relationship.”

“I guess…yeah. I mean, he’s just too perfect. He can’t be real.”

“No one is perfect, Jack. Not even Gabriel. I guarantee it. But seeing each other’s imperfections for what they are does not mean that the relationship has to fall apart. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

“I know. I meant…he’s just so caring and attentive and thoughtful, and he makes me feel so good about myself. I feel like I’m waiting for this other side of him to come out and for him to start being manipulative and confusing me and making me think I’m crazy, like…well, like what happened with Ryan.”

“Did Ryan make you feel good about yourself, when the relationship was new?”

Jack sits back and gazes into the middle distance, frowning thoughtfully.

“No, he never did,” he says. “The first time we talked, he made fun of the way I described something about the shoot. He did it like, jokingly, but it made me feel self-conscious about the way I talked around him. He was always making fun of me like that, and getting other people to laugh at me, too. I was never comfortable totally being myself around him.”

“Are you comfortable being yourself with Gabriel?”

Jack’s expression instantly changes to a soft smile. “Yeah. I am. He laughs about things I do, too, but it’s totally different. It’s not like he thinks I’m a freak, it’s like…he’s enjoying me. Enjoying me just being myself. I…I never thought about that. How different being enjoyed feels than being made fun of.”

“I think perhaps you are having some anxiety because the relationship is moving a rather quickly,” Dr. Ziegler says. “Everything else you have told me about Gabriel sounds quite encouraging. Do not be afraid to ask him to take things more slowly. Give yourself time to get to know him, and be consistent about setting and sticking to your boundaries. That is really all you can do. But our time is almost up. Is there anything else you wanted to discuss today?”

Jack chews his lip thoughtfully. “That pretty much covers everything for now. I’m just really anxious about this Ryan thing. I hate that I have this kind of baggage hanging around me.”

“Well, Jack, to be fair, Gabriel lives with his ex-wife and teenaged son, and you have been understanding and accepting of that. To him, one ex-boyfriend who treated you badly will probably not seem like an excessive amount of cargo.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jack laughs. “Thanks so much, Dr. Ziegler. I feel a lot better.”

“I am glad to help, Jack. I will see you next week, and you can tell me how it goes, alright?”

“Yep, next week,” Jack says cheerfully, rising to go. “Thanks again, Dr. Z.”

 

 

 

 

Jack arrives at Gabriel’s posh penthouse nearly bursting with impatience to be bodily close to his lover. They haven’t seen each other in a week, and he is beginning to feel the need to be held and touched like a physical ache. Gabriel opens the door with his usual smile and mild manner, looking practically edible in his tight, grey v-neck and black slacks. He has barely gotten the door shut when Jack leaps upon him, covering his mouth with an urgent, needy kiss. The majority of the anxiety Gabriel has had about this meeting melts away in the warmth of Jack’s eager affection, and he can’t help laughing into the kiss, as he wraps his arms around him.

“Hi, Jack,” he says, pulling away to smile down at him. “It’s good to see you, too.”

“More kisses,” Jack pouts. “I haven’t kissed you in like a hundred years. I’m dying.”

Gabriel laughs again. “It’s been seven days, you goose. You’re not dying. But I suppose you can have one more.”

Jack takes enthusiastic advantage of the offer, pressing his pouting lips to Gabriel’s and sliding his tongue forward to caress his. He sighs deeply into the kiss, then draws away and gazes up at him, blue eyes wide and luminous. Gabriel’s stomach flutters as he gazes into those eyes. Jack is so fucking beautiful. He looks like literal sunshine wrapped in a pale pink t-shirt and stylishly faded jeans, with his golden hair and rosy complexion, and just the barest hint of tiny freckles sprinkled across the bridge of his nose by the summer sun.

“Gabriel,” Jack says shyly, as Gabriel reaches up to stroke his hair. “May I please have my cage?”

Jack asking for his cage like this is almost more than Gabriel can withstand. He feels his face flush with heat, and his cock swells against the restricting fabric of his underwear. With an enormous effort of will, he stops himself from carrying the young man upstairs to devour him then and there.

“In a little while, mi sol,” he says. “I’ve got dinner on the stove. Speaking of which, I better check on it. Would you like some iced tea?”

“Just water, please,” Jack says, following Gabriel into the kitchen. “I’m still watching the caffeine.”

“I know. I made some hibiscus peach herbal iced tea. No caffeine.”

Jack smiles delightedly at the thoughtful gesture. “Oh, thank you. That sounds great.”

He seats himself at the kitchen bar and watches as Gabriel fills a tall glass with ice, then pours the ruby-colored tea from a handmade pitcher, with little bubbles all through the glass. He sets the beverage before Jack, then turns to attend his cast iron pan, from which enticingly savory aromas waft as he lifts the lid.

“Perfect,” he says, turning to Jack. “If you want to go sit in the dining room, I’ll plate the food and bring out.”

Jack takes his iced tea to the dining room, where he sits at one of the two set places. He fidgets with the silver charger until Gabriel comes and sets a plate on it, delivered with a kiss to the top of his head. He goes back to the kitchen and returns shortly with his own plate, and the two begin to eat.

Unfortunately, Jack finds he can barely enjoy the incredibly delicious seafood paella Gabriel has made. He can’t put his finger on it, but something is making him anxious. There is something in Gabriel’s manner, though he is as polite and gentle as always, that Jack is picking up as noise. The subtle, indescribable sense of a chill between them.

Is it possible Gabriel is angry with him for leaving the club without permission? He doesn’t seem angry, but Jack doesn’t know how Gabriel is when he’s angry, so he can’t actually say for sure. His feeling of anxiety grows as they sit there chatting, from a nagging buzz into outright static, that becomes so loud it causes him physical pain, and he can’t hear what Gabriel is saying. Overwhelmed beyond his capacity, Jack sets his fork down abruptly and covers his face with both hands.

“Oh no, Jack,” Gabriel says, jumping up from his seat. He kneels at Jack’s side with a look of deep concern. “Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Jack pants. “I’m so anxious—I can’t think. I don’t know what’s happening.”

Gabriel takes his trembling hands and holds them in his, pressing kisses to them. “Jack, it’s ok. You can talk to me.”

“You’re angry with me or something,” Jack sniffles, as tears start down his cheeks. “You don’t seem like it, but I can tell something’s wrong and I can’t think about anything else.”

“Sweetheart, I am not angry with you,” Gabriel says, in his low, soothing voice. “There’s something I want to talk to you about. But it’s nothing to work yourself up over, I promise.”

“Is it cause I left the club the other night without permission?” Jack asks tremulously. “Cause I’m sorry and I can explain.”

Gabriel cups his chin gently but firmly in his hand, so Jack has to look up at him.

“Jack, listen to me,” he says. “This is important. If I was displeased with something related to your behavior as my submissive, I would have told you immediately. I will never let you wonder and worry that you’ve displeased me. I will always let you know, and we will work to correct the behavior right away.”

Intense, instantaneous relief washes over Jack as he is reminded of Gabriel’s dominant role. His chest ceases to constrict and he breathes easier, and his tears dwindle to a stop. Gabriel releases his chin and returns to his chair, but he keeps Jack’s hand in his, knowing that the touch anchors him and helps him stay present in the moment.

“Jack, I want to explain myself, and maybe you’ll feel better,” he says. “I didn’t put you in your cage before dinner because I wanted to check in with you as equal partners before we step back into those roles, ok?” 

Jack nods, but continues to stare down at the table, as if he is a child about to be lectured.

“I think that was a mistake, and I apologize,” Gabriel continues. “You’re probably feeling pretty lost and ungrounded right now.”

Jack nods again, and looks timidly up at his handsome, dark-eyed lover. Gabriel’s openly adoring expression soothes him further.

He stops shaking and takes a deep breath. “So…you’re not mad at me?”

“Of course not. I wanted to talk about it, but not to correct you or anything like that. I just wanted to understand what happened.”

Jack shakes his head ruefully. “I should have told you, but…it’s so stupid. I’m really embarrassed about it.”

“You can always tell me what you’re feeling, Jack. I will never think it’s stupid.”

“Ok, but it’s complicated, so I’ll have to give you some background. Is that ok?”

“That’s perfect,” Gabriel smiles. “Let’s sit down in the living room, so we can be comfortable while we talk, alright?”

Jack takes a few slow swallows of his iced tea to soothe his throat, which aches whenever he gets emotional, then the two move to Gabriel’s large, austerely decorated living room. They sit on the sofa facing the massive windows that overlook the city. Jack wishes vaguely that it was fireplace weather. He’s always wanted to curl up with someone under a blanket before a roaring fire, like he’s simulated doing multiple times for magazine spreads.

“So…I had this boyfriend,” he begins at last. “He was a model, too. Not as well known, but younger and prettier and cooler than me. I was crazy about him, but I was never actually happy with him. It was more like an addiction. I always felt like I was chasing him and never really had him. He’d ignore me for days and then make me feel like a possessive jerk for being upset. He’d tell me other people thought I was weird, but he loved me. He’d make comments that wore away my self esteem, then play it off like a joke, or worse, like he was giving me advice for my own good because I needed to be fixed. There’s a lot of other stuff, but you get the idea.

I learned through therapy that what he was doing was emotional abuse, but when I was with him, I thought it was what I deserved. He was able to manipulate me like that because of my ADHD. It’s hard to make other people understand, but it doesn’t just make you scatterbrained. It effects your long term and short term memory. It’s not cute forgetfulness, it’s destructive to your life in all these small, insidious ways that waste your time and eat away at your self worth and make you feel so stupid and crazy, that sometimes you don’t want to live.

But since it’s not immediately life-threatening, people don’t take it seriously. They tell you ‘be sure to write it down this time,’ or ‘you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached,’ all laughingly, like you’re just flighty and irresponsible. Or they try to fix it. Get you to make to-do lists or use home organizers or set reminders in your phone, like you’re a moron child who never thought of trying those things. Or they get angry and tell you that you should be able to remember important things like everyone else does. Being told all those things thousands of times over your life, when you know you try your absolute hardest every day and nothing you do works, crushes you slowly until you start to believe you’re worthless.

Anyway, he used it against me all the time. He knew he could confuse the point in an argument until I couldn’t hold a single thought together and I’d break down. He knew my mind would simply erase huge amounts of information, so that he could make me believe things were my fault. And I always fell for it. On top of all that, he was always texting with other guys and lying about where he was. I knew what he was doing, but I could never prove it, so it just made me feel crazy.

We fought and broke up all the time, and then he’d show up with flowers and apologies and I’d always take him back. Finally, I literally walked in on him fucking someone else, and I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. He didn’t even apologize. He freaked out on me for showing up at his place unannounced and embarrassing him. Then he twisted everything around to make it seem like it was my fault for not caring enough about him. I had to stand there in his kitchen, knowing there was a naked man in his bedroom, while _he_ broke up with _me_. I actually left believing it was my fault somehow.

I was destroyed. I’ve never been so depressed in my life. I cancelled some upcoming jobs and I didn’t leave my apartment for weeks. I ignored Ana’s calls until she got fed up, and her and Fareeha stormed the gates armed with coffee, groceries, cleaning supplies, and the sweetest, prettiest little kitten you could imagine. By the way, Ana is a genius, I swear. Taking care of the kitten gave me a reason to get out of bed and someone to talk to. Like, in a cat way, not a crazy way.

Then Ana made me start therapy and booked me some jobs, and just ran every minute of my day, so I could operate on auto-pilot and not ruin my career while I recovered. I haven’t been able to see anyone romantically since the breakup, until you. My ex hurt me too much and I was too scared to get hurt like that again. It took a long time, and I fought Ana every step of the way, but I got better. I’m not cured or anything, but I’m healing.

The problem is that the modeling world isn’t very big. Not for top-tier male models. There was this huge show in Milan that was really important to me. He was booked for it too, so I called him and asked him not to do it, as a favor to me. Of course, he flipped out on me and said I was trying to ruin his career and I had no right to take work from him that he needed way more than I did, and all kinds of shit. I believed him that I was just being an asshole, so I bowed out of the show.

The director called Ana and begged her to get me back. She said she’d been authorized to offer me whatever I wanted. Ana flat out told her that they could have my ex or me, and they fired him immediately. I felt guilty about it and told her not to do that anymore, but he used it against me anyway. He told people I was a spoiled prima-donna, and that I said I wouldn’t walk on the same runway with him, which I never said, not even in private.

After that, when I’d run into him on jobs, he’d do everything he could to make me miserable. He’d mock me or make little comments when only I could hear him, till I’d lose it and look insane while he looked like a perfect, innocent angel. I’m better at handling him professionally now, but it’s still hard for me to see him. Especially in a place where I—where I thought I was safe.”

Jack takes a breath and lets it out slowly, then musters the courage to look Gabriel in the eye.

“So, that’s a long way of explaining it, but that’s why I ran away from Talon the other night,” he says. “Ryan was there and I was too much of a coward to face him. And I was too scared to tell you because I felt stupid and I was afraid you’d think I was being dramatic and childish, or that I was trying to mess with his career or something, since he works for Mel. I’m sorry.”

Gabriel pulls Jack into his lap and wraps him up in a nearly crushing embrace, pressing kisses to his face and neck.

“Oh, Jack, baby,” he breathes. “Don’t apologize. You’re safe. You’re safe with me. I’ll make sure that son of a bitch never gets into Talon again. Christ, I can’t believe what an idiot I am.”

“What do you mean?” Jack says, pulling away to look at him. “How does any of this make you the idiot?”

“I thought when you said you wanted to avoid someone, you meant the Reaper,” Gabriel says. “I’ve been avoiding asking you about it all week, because I was afraid I’d freaked you out and you might not…want to be with me anymore.”

Jack blinks, then laughs out loud. “Oh my god…you’re serious. Gabriel, is this possible? Are you actually insecure about something?”

“Yes. I’m just a man, Jack. I happen to be very vulnerable when it comes to this. It’s a difficult thing to explain to a romantic partner, and it was terrifying to me to let you see me that way. Then when you left like that, I thought my fears had been confirmed. I was a mess all week.”

“Holy shit,” Jack says. He wants to be sensitive, but he is unable to contain his surprise at the idea that Gabriel is a human being with insecurities. “You were an actual mess? No, I can’t imagine it. I don’t believe you.”

“Well I was,” Gabriel says, smiling despite himself. “You should’ve seen me. My daughter thought we’d been fighting. And she kept calling me a gay penguin, but that was about something else.”

“A gay penguin,” Jack says thoughtfully. “Were you talking about adopting a baby rock?”

“How does everyone know this reference but me?” Gabriel says, with an exasperated gesture. “Am I not hip anymore?”

Jack smirks. “You are definitely not hip. But you’re way too sexy for that to matter.”

“You’re getting pretty mouthy,” Gabriel says, squeezing his ass with both hands. “Maybe you need a spanking.”

“Or my cage!” Jack says brightly. “That’ll teach me.”

Gabriel sighs. “You’re so good, Jack. How did I get so lucky?”

“I dunno,” Jack shrugs. “I am pretty great. I mean, you’ve seen my ass.”

“I have, and yes you are. But, listen…you’re really ok with the Reaper thing? We didn’t get to talk about it.”

“Oh, that was…I’ve never seen anything like it,” Jack says excitedly, practically bouncing in Gabriel’s lap. “That woman responded exactly how you said she would, and she even pissed herself and it wasn’t gross like I thought it would be at all. It was so amazing. I wanted to come see you and yell about it, but I wanted to be respectful, so I didn’t obviously, and then Ryan ruined everything, cause Ryan. But yeah, the Reaper is fucking awesome. He’s so sexy and dangerous but like…he’s you. So, _safe_ dangerous. Don’t get jealous, but I kind of have a little crush on him.”

Gabriel sits gazing up at him, stunned to silence by this unexpected torrent of enthusiasm. Jack chatters blithely away, unaware that he is touching a deep chord of longing, buried in the core of his lover’s soul. Caressing that hollow, tender ache with his unhesitating warmth and acceptance.

“Oh, but Ana said to tell you she loved your show,” he is saying. “I think she’s gone back since then, without me. I mean, I told you, she’s a total freak. I was going to ask her if—ah! Oh. Where are we going?”

Jack’s exclamation is in response to Gabriel rising suddenly and lifting him up off the couch.

“Upstairs,” Gabriel says, setting him on his feet and pointing to the staircase. “I want you right now.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack says, blushing to the ears.

He goes directly to the stairs and ascends, not looking to see if Gabriel is following him. He knows Gabriel’s command voice when he hears it, and he doesn’t dare hesitate. They are back in their roles now, and he is expected to follow protocol.

He goes to Gabriel’s room, and heads into the bathroom area, where he uses the toilet, washes his hands, and rinses his mouth with mouthwash from his drawer. Then he goes to the closet. He removes his shoes and sets them on the shoe rack, then quickly strips his clothing, which he deposits in the white hamper. He opens the top drawer of the dresser and retrieves a little black box, which he carries with him and sets on the edge of the bed. Then he kneels on the sheepskin rug, facing the bed, and waits silently.

“Good,” Gabriel’s voice says behind him. His warm, heavy hand rests on Jack’s shoulder for a moment. “Good boy. I’m so proud of you, Jack. You know your routine perfectly. Go ahead. You can have your cage now. Put it on while I get undressed, then lie down on the bed and wait for me.”

“Gabriel?” Jack says.

“Yes, Jack?”

“On my back or my stomach?”

Gabriel smiles. “Whatever you like.”

Jack opens the box and slips carefully into his cage, shivering at the cold embrace of the restricting steel, and feeling a little thrill as the lock clicks shut. The weight of it tugs at his cock as he goes to set the box on Gabriel’s nightstand. He’s already giddy with the sensation of finally being locked up again, and he wonders if Gabriel will ever let him wear a cage full time.

He lies down on his stomach, hugging a fluffy pillow, and watches Gabriel undressing his bronze, muscular body in the walk-in. He leaves his black underwear on, which he usually does, denying Jack the sight of that big, gorgeous cock until he begs for it. Jack wonders what Gabriel would look like locked up, and if he ever has been. He does design these things, after all.

He turns over onto his back as Gabriel approaches, smiling coyly and biting his lip. Gabriel stops and runs his eyes admiringly over Jack’s naked body. Jack blushes happily under his approval, basking in being looked at and enjoyed this way. Gabriel finally climbs into the bed and lowers his body slowly onto Jack’s. Their mouths find each other as if drawn by a magnetic field, and their arms twine about each other. They give a deep sigh at the same time, then pull back laughing from the kiss.

“I missed you so much,” Gabriel says softly, stroking Jack’s cheek. “I’ve had a rough week, which was totally my fault, but I need to be close to you and reconnect emotionally. Is it alright if things are a little vanilla tonight?”

Jack nods eagerly. “Of course it’s alright, Gabriel. I care about you. I just want you to be happy.”

“I want you to be happy, too.”

“Well, good news, then,” Jack laughs. “You being happy makes me happy. We’re a self-sustaining happiness factory.”

Gabriel laughs too, and presses his lips to Jack’s again. “You’re so fucking amazing, Jack. I love everything about you.”

He gets up to remove his underwear and retrieve a bottle of lube from the nightstand, blissfully unaware of the effect this casually-dropped turn of phrase has had on Jack, who just manages to smooth his expression of confused panic into a smile before Gabriel looks at him again. His heart had lurched and run ragged at the words. He doesn’t understand his reaction at all, but he doesn’t want to think about that now, so he pushes it away and focuses on the moment. The sudden surge of anxiety dissolves in the taste of Gabriel’s mouth, his scent, the heat of his body, the comfort of being safe and cared for and wanted. Jack’s cock swells and strains against his cage, sending his head spinning with pleasure and desire.

“Gabriel, fuck me,” he whispers. “Please fuck me.”

“Be patient, baby,” Gabriel says. “It’s been a while. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He pours lube into his hand and slides it between Jack’s legs, slicking Jack’s asshole as he teases and prods it. Jack whines and spreads his legs wider, then gasps as the first finger slips inside. Gabriel pushes it deeper, slowly moving it in and out, then adds a second. Jack moans at the increased pressure, which is somehow too much and not enough at the same time. His moan breaks off in a gasp as Gabriel hooks his fingers and finds the spot. He leans down and tongues over Jack’s cock, where it is swelling and leaking through the bars of his cage, as he massages his prostate. The firm tongue and hot breath on his tightly caged cock, coupled with the internal stimulation nearly shorts out Jack’s brain. His legs shake and he claws at the bedspread, pushing himself desperately against Gabriel’s fingers.

“P—please,” he sputters. “Gabriel please, I need—need you inside me.”

Gabriel slides his fingers out, leaving Jack aching and empty, but only for a moment. He kneels between Jack’s legs and hooks one over his shoulder, spreading him apart with his thumb and forefinger. Jack feels the warm, blunt head of his cock pressing against his tight opening. His eyes roll closed and he groans involuntarily as Gabriel begins to penetrate him. He knows logically that Gabriel’s cock is big, but it feels impossibly thick and girthy compared to his fingers.

He begins to pant and sweat breaks out on his forehead, as he is stretched and filled till he almost feels like he’ll split in half. Gabriel watches his face, pausing to stroke his thighs and soothe him when it seems like it’s too much, then working himself deeper, inch by inch, till he is firmly seated in Jack’s taut, squeezing heat.

“Are you alright, Jack?” he asks hoarsely. “Does it hurt?”

“No, no,” Jack pants. “It’s good. You feel—so fucking good…fuck!”

Gabriel leans over him, pressing his chest to Jack’s, covering him in his warm, soothing weight. Jack holds onto his shoulders and looks into his eyes as Gabriel begins to move inside him. He has never felt so connected to another human being. His lips part in a silent moan and his eyes fall shut again as Gabriel fucks him slow and deep, kissing and caressing his face, and murmuring expressions of adoration in English and Spanish. Jack’s climax comes on him suddenly, an intense, aching release, that lingers and quakes through his entire body, as his cock spurts though the bars of his cage between them.

He throws his arms around Gabriel, pulling him as close as he can, kissing him feverishly as he thrusts his thick shaft into his convulsing hole. Gabriel pushes in to the base and rocks his hips, keeping his pelvis flush against Jack’s ass. His cock swells, then throbs and pulses, filling Jack’s insides with warm, slippery fluid. When his spasms have subsided, Gabriel moves to pull away, but Jack clings to him, so he stays happily where he is, stroking Jack’s hair and gazing into his beautiful face, flushed and rosy in the post-climax euphoria.

Jack opens his eyes and laughs huskily. “You’re always looking at me like that.”

Gabriel smiles. “Like what, mi sol?”

“Like you’re just seeing me for the first time.”

“Maybe I always feel like I’m just seeing you for the first time,” Gabriel says softly. “Jack, I…”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just…thank you for being with me and accepting me for who I am. It means more to me than I can tell you.”

“Thank you for being with me and accepting me, too. And for the amazing sex.”

Gabriel raises an eyebrow. “Well, I am pretty good at it.”

Jack laughs and pulls him into another kiss, then they lie quietly, content to hold each other and be silent together. After a while, Jack begins to fidget restlessly, and he and Gabriel get out of bed to have a shower. The rest of the evening passes in mutual affection and lively conversation, Jack having many more things to say about his observations of the Reaper. But Gabriel finds he still feels unresolved, somehow. There is something unsaid or undone between them, that nags at the corner of his mind.

He lies awake mulling this over, long after Jack has fallen asleep in his arms. At last, he decides he knows what it is that’s troubling him. But this is a burden he’ll have to carry alone for a while. It isn’t time. Jack isn’t ready. He wraps Jack more securely in his arms and leans down to kiss his forehead, at which Jack stirs and makes a drowsy little sound, but he doesn’t wake. Gabriel looks down at his peaceful, sleeping face for a long moment. Then, with a soft sigh, he lies back to drift off to sleep, content for now, just to be here with his angel.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
